The Many Lessons of Hermione Granger
by SJMuggle
Summary: Several years after the Battle at Hogwarts, Hermione's life had settled into a rut. Everything changes when a handsome, young Quidditch player teaches her to throw away the rulebook – A Hermione/George Story
1. Chapter 1

**The Many Lessons of Hermione Granger **

_Disclaimer: Not Mine – JK's _

_Summary: Several years after the Battle at Hogwarts, Hermione's life had settled into a rut. All that changes when a handsome, young Quidditch player teaches her to throw out the rulebook – A Hermione/George Story _

_Author's Note: Story takes place several years after the Hogwarts Battle. Almost everything is cannon. I've disregarded the epilogue [Obviously]. Also, a key, key difference is that I am writing as though Fred never died. In my last story I kept him dead and that was no fun. Anything else that doesn't match the rest of the books is mere oversight/mistake on my part. This is my third(!) Hermione/George story – I wanted to write another one from Hermione's perspective. I find her perspective the most enjoyable to write from. Would love it if you checked out my other two! Thanks to everyone one who is reading! – SJ_

_Warning! FLUFF! – Might as well admit it up front; it's all I write. _

**Chapter One **

_Author's Note: Thanks for Reading! Not mine – JK's _

In the second smallest room, on the ninth lowest floor in the Ministry of Magic building, a young woman sighed, set down her well-worn feather quill and leaned back in her stiff, wooden chair. She ran a disgruntled hand through her bushy, brown hair and wished for a window in her room so that she could look out of her stuffy office and into the dreary, blustery English afternoon.

"Grainer?" A broad, mustached man stuck his balding, blonde head through her slightly ajar door. "Have you finished your most recent revision?"

"Er, yes I have, Minister Fitzcharles," Hermione Granger maintained her most professional tone, fighting the urge to correct her superior on the pronunciation of her surname. "It's right here."

"Excellent Grainier," Raymond Fitzcharles, Minster of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, wandered into Hermione's small, sparse office. As per usual, the flamboyant Minister was wearing a perfectly colour-coded outfit: an eggplant purple, three-piece suit with a daffodil yellow bowtie and a delicate silver watch chain.

"You look very smart today, Minister," Hermione said in her most sincere tone. She recalled what she had written on her ever-present notepad during the first week after she had transferred from the Department of the Care and Control of Magical Creatures to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: '_Always compliment Minster Fitzcharles on his fashion.' _She knew that if she was to pull her small, wire-coiled notepad out of her beaded bag she would find that edict written, in her cramped but precise cursive, on one of the first pages.

"Thank you...err…Harriet…. May I have your document?" The older man brushed off her compliment, but Hermione could tell by the way his hardly visible blonde mustache quivered, that, even though he hadn't bothered to learn her first name either, he had appreciated her remark. Fitzcharles stood a bit taller as he accepted the stack of parchment from Hermione. "Well, this looks to be in order. Thank you. I'll have the next piece of legislation couriered to you momentarily."

"Lovely, thank you, Minister Fitzcharles." Hermione replied politely. She didn't know why she was thanking her superior for supplying her more work, but assumed that it was the proper thing to do. After Fitzcharles bustled out of her office, Hermione leaned further back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest, grateful for the moment of rest. Her job wasn't particularly demanding – she was only responsible for editing prospective legislation before it was enacted. Essentially, her task was simply insuring that all commas were in the correct spots, all place names were spelt correctly, and that the drafters had used the proper wordings of 'there,' 'affects,' and 'whose.'

In the two and three quarter years since she had transferred to Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione had hoped that her job would have become more important. It was difficult for her to accept that her role had yet to change, but knew that it was part of life. '_Remember that you always have to pay your dues._' The reminder that she had written in her notebook only five weeks prior ran through her head; a mantra she often found herself repeating while hunched over dog-eared pieces of parchment, scouring the type for mistakes.

Sooner than she appreciated, a bulky scroll of rolled-up parchment fluttered into her office on enchanted, golden wings. Hermione reached up and expertly caught the hovering, scroll. Carefully unsealing the roll, Hermione flattened the parchment on her desk in front of her.

"_An Amendment to the Act for the Proper use of "Electronic" Muggle Artifacts," _was written in sprawling, inky cursive across the title page. Hermione sighed with a shrug; the area of law was one in which she had little to no interest. A quick leaf through of the ninety-six pages of parchment and Hermione soon realized that the large document was just as dull as it was technical. Also, the many, many sections and subsections were riddled with spelling and grammar errors. She rolled her eyes at an obvious mistake in the first sentence of the preamble to the Act, resigning herself in the knowledge that she would likely be working on this particular piece of legislation for several weeks. Dipping her familiar, worn feather quill in the dark scarlet ink that she used for editing, Hermione started to slowly read the first page, making notes on the page were necessary.

-o-O-o-

When her work day had come to an end, Hermione had only worked her way through the first few pages of the document. She glanced over the editing that she had done; the pieces of parchment were covered in red marks, corrections, and cross-outs. "Well, I'll look forward to getting back to you on Monday," She mentally said to the proposed legislation. Finding a file folder in one of her desk drawers, Hermione put the parchment away, knowing that it would be waiting for her at the start of the following week. Standing up from her stiff chair, Hermione stretched her arms high above her and moved her head from side to side, ineffectively trying to work the ever-present strain out of her neck. Content that her neck was as relaxed as she'd ever get it, Hermione grabbed her tan trench coat off its rack. Pulling it over her shoulder, she tied its belt snuggly around her waist and wrapped her heavy, purple scarf several times around her neck. She wished that she had remembered to bring a pair of mittens or a knitted hat; London was experiencing an uncharacteristically cold spell, even for mid-December.

"Hermione, are you heading home?" A friendly voice entered the office. Hermione glanced up and saw the woman who occupied the adjacent office, Holly Landry, standing at the doorway. Holly's attire suggested that she did not share Hermione's qualms about the chilly weather. The tall blonde woman was dressed in a shiny, black mini-skirt and a brightly coloured, sequin-covered top. A tiny, delicate stud decorated one side of her nose and long, feathery earrings hung from her ears. Hermione never understood how her coworker always managed to wear such flashy outfits without ever receiving any reprimanding for her clothing choices. Although her pixie-cut, blonde hair was no longer streaked with striking pink, Holly still never failed to wear something that looked better suited to a club scene or dance hall than an office setting. Then again, no one ever told Hermione that she had to wear modest outfits like the simple blue blouse and charcoal grey slacks that she had opted for that particular day. Likely, Hermione considered, no one cared enough about their department to implement a dress code.

"Ah, yah, I guess so" – Hermione replied to her co-worker's question – "I don't think I'm going to put in any overtime today."

"No, Mione….I mean, are you going home or are you coming out with Klara and me?" Holly replied with a wide smile that displayed most of her perfect teeth. The mischievous look on her face told Hermione that her coworker was unlikely to easily accept 'no' as an answer.

"Er, I thought I might stay in tonight, Hol…This week has been pretty mental," Hermione said quietly, knowing that her answer would not appease her fun-loving colleague. A brief vision of her half-finished novel and a cup of hot cocoa ran through Hermione's mind. She thought off how enjoyable it would be to spend the evening at her flat, in flannel pants, reading her book, but understood that Holly would not find such an excuse compelling.

"Oh come on Mione…If I know you, you'll just stay in and read and be lame," Holly replied, either reading Hermione's mind or simply knowing her habits. "Klara and I would love for you to join us. We're just going to the Leaky Caldron for drinks and girl talk. It would not be the same without you…" Holly adopted a tone that was intentionally winey, but she spoke so good-naturedly that Hermione found she was, as per usual, won over by the older woman's pleas.

"I don't know," Hermione returned hesitantly, wavering on her earlier decision of declining Holly's offer. Holly had an excellent ability to talk her into accompanying her on nights out. The blonde's undeniable love of merriment was always infectious.

"Hermione, we'll have fun…I promise."

"Er….fine…You promise it will be low key?" Hermione faltered, completely unsurprised that she had agreed to Holly's invitation. She knew she could only handle a relaxing night, however. Not long ago, one morning after a night of too much fun with her coworkers, Hermione had shakily left a memo in her notepad in messy writing: "_Remember, you can't keep up with Holly and Klara." _Holly and Klara were both known for being rather rambunctious and fond of late nights, alcohol, and dancing. Hermione had learned the hard way on several occasions that attempting to maintain their pace led to regrettable days after.

"Of course. I wouldn't lie to you," Holly grinned affably and Hermione remembered why she was immediately fond of the other woman upon meeting her on her first day of work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Hey Klara," Holly turned and yelled down the building's corridor. Soon, the two women were joined in Hermione's office by a third. Klara Suzuki was technically both Hermione and Holly's superior, but she always treated the younger two women as peers. Even though she was in her very late twenties, the petite woman – with her perfectly clear completion and long, pin-straight, jet-black hair – could have passed for ten years younger.

"What is it?" Klara asked. The more conservative of Hermione's two office neighbors, Klara looked sophisticated as always. She was dressed in a simple, structured grey dress with a smart, ivory cardigan. A strand of perfectly round peals hung around her narrow neck and she wore matching jewels in her ears. Her beloved, towering, bright pink heels were the only aspect of her attire that exhibited her outgoing nature.

"I'm convincing Hermione to come out with us tonight," Holly told her with a smile.

"Oh Hermione, you're definitely coming tonight," Klara grinned. Even though she voiced her comment as a demand, it was spoken with such obviously friendliness that Hermione was convinced.

"Alright you two" – Hermione admitted – "I'll join you at the Caldron. But, I'm not staying out late, and I'm not going to end up on some dance floor with some bloke…"

"Brilliant!" – Holly declared with a smile – "Go home and change and meet us there at six."

"Change?" Hermione questioned glancing down at her outfit thinking that what she was wearing was more than acceptable.

"Yah, you're not showing up wearing pants and flats. Go find something cute that shows some leg. Can't wait to see you there!" Holly's forwardness never came across as offensive even though Hermione would not have appreciated someone else telling her the exact same things. Holly could be a trifle abrasive at times, but she was also kind and welcoming. Hermione had yet to regret forming a friendship with the other woman and didn't plan on starting to anytime soon.

"Well….fine…I'll see you in a bit," Hermione replied. She smiled slightly, feeling surprisingly excited about the prospect of a night out with her two friends rather than staying in with a book and a hot drink, as was so often her tendency.

-o-O-o-

The Leaky Caldron was quite crowded when Hermione wandered into the tavern at exactly six o'clock. She wasn't shocked; the recently renovated Diagon Alley establishment was a popular after work hangout for many of London's young witches and wizards.

"Hermione! Hermione! Over here," Hermione perked up at the sound of her name being yelled from across the tavern. She glanced in the direction of the voice and saw Holly waving vigorously. She and Klara had managed to secure a booth that was privately tucked into a corner of the Leaky Caldron.

"Hey you two," Hermione said with a smile, removing her trench coat and scarf and hanging them on the provided hooks.

"You look awesome," Holly exclaimed, whistling in appreciation at Hermione's wardrobe change. Hermione had stopped in at her flat before arriving at the Leaky Caldron to find a new outfit. After rummaging through her closet, Hermione had settled on a simple, but flattering, dark, royal blue dress. Its cap sleeves and square neckline suited her perfectly and the bell-shaped skirt and the way the dress tied in the back accentuated her slender waist. Wanting to combat the ever bushiness of her hair, Hermione had taken several minutes to charm her hair straight, letting it fall silkily over her shoulders. A beige pair of pumps completed the look. The heels weren't sensible for the icy London streets, but Hermione had decided to choose fashion over practicality for a change.

"Here, sit down," Klara offered, sliding along the bench to make room around the small, circular table for Hermione. Hermione collapsed onto the slick, brown leather of the bench, gratefully slumping against the back of the booth. It had been a long week.

"Can I get you girls anything?" A rather fatigued looking server asked them several moments after Hermione had sat down.

"Double vodka soda," Holly hastily requested.

"Glass of white, please," Klara added with a kind grin.

"Er…I'll just have a cup of tea," Hermione murmured shyly. She knew that her friends would expect her to partake in drinking alcoholic beverages with them, but, since she needed her evening to be relaxing, thought better of it.

"Come on, Mione," Holly replied with mock exasperation while she played with her dangly, feather earring. "It's Friday. Live a little."

"Er….just a cup of Earl Grey…" Hermione reiterated to the server, pretending not to notice Holly's over-exaggerated eye roll. "I can be fun without drinking," She commented pointedly, directing her declaration towards Holly.

"Ok, but you know I'm going to hold you to that," Holly remarked with an impish grin.

"Oh, I believe you, Holly," Hermione chuckled, knowing that her coworker meant what she said.

-o-O-o-

Their server soon came back to the table with the young women's requested beverages. Hermione added a splash of cream and a drop of honey to her tea before taking a grateful sip. It had been a hard week for the young Ministry employee and the tea's caffeine was extremely welcomed. The revisions that Minister Fitzcharles had collected earlier that day had put Hermione on a tight deadline. She had spend most of the week spending late nights in her cramped office in order to complete the necessary edits on time.

As Hermione nursed her tea, she listened to her two friends as they animatedly chatted about their plans for the upcoming holiday break. Hermione did interject every now and then to ask Klara about her prospective plans – a trip to Greece with her boyfriend – but she was mostly content to let the other two do the majority of the talking. It wasn't that she was necessarily shy. Hermione always considered herself as rather adventurous; she had never had problems rising to the occasion to face trolls, spiders, Dark Wizards, giants, or difficult term papers. However, she was significantly more socially reserved when compared to her two outgoing companions. Moreover, the tea was delicious and the Leaky Caldron was warm from being filled with so many people, and so Hermione was happy to lounge against the bench of the booth, finally finding a moment to relax.

"What are you up to over Christmas?" Holly turned her attention from Klara to Hermione as their server returned with refills of their beverages.

"Oh, er, ah" – Hermione stammered. She hadn't expected to be engaged thus and Holly's question had caught her off guard. Also, with the overabundance of duties at work, Hermione had yet to formulate holiday arrangements. "I actually haven't thought of it yet." She murmured, self-conscious as to the fact that she didn't have exciting plans to divulge. "I guess I'll just get together with family or friends." She added hastily. Family, Hermione knew, was out of the question. A trip to Australia to visit her parents was regrettably out of her budget. She figured that she might be able to tag along to the Burrow to spend Christmas, once again, with the Weasleys and her good friend, Harry Potter. While she wasn't as close to the large, wizard family as she had been as a teenager – when she had spent large portions of her summer and winter holidays with the family – she knew that Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and the rest of the family would welcome her wholeheartedly nevertheless.

"That's nice," Holly replied.

"Yah, what are your plans?" Hermione asked, hoping her two companions hadn't picked up on her hesitations which she was sure must have been particularly noteworthy.

"Oh, probably lots of sleeping. Maybe some skiing. Visiting with the parents, of course…" Holly started listing off some of her winter arrangements until she paused, her concentration obviously drawn elsewhere. "Well….what have we here?" The blonde drawled, her eyes rapt on the doorway of the Leaky Caldron.

"What is it?" Klara asked eagerly. Their seating pattern prevented both Klara and Hermione from seeing the front door; only Holly was facing the entrance.

"Looks like Christmas has come early girls" – Holly smiled – "It seems as if a team of Quidditch boys have decided to grace us with their presence."

"Oh no," Klara sighed and pointedly raised her eyebrows in Hermione's direction. Hermione had to smile; Holly's fondness for men who played Quidditch was a running joke throughout their office, as all those who worked with the trio were aware that the young woman had a tendency to drop all inhibitions around the athletes. Holly herself willingly admitted as such. In fact, most of the ribbing she received on the matter was self originating. "Are we going to have to leave now before you misbehave?" Klara asked her friend in feigned concern. Their blonde companion pouted her bottom lip and widely opened her eyes to portray an innocent expression. She shook her head, but Hermione could easily spot the impish gleam in Holly's grey eyes and the smile attempting to break on her mouth.

"I'll be good…I promise," Holly grinned while Klara shrugged noncommittally and shook her head.

"I'm sure of that," Klara laughed disbelievingly while Hermione joined in with a couple giggles of her own. She had been witness to Holly's behaviour around Quidditch players before and it always was, if anything, amusing.

"So, where are these blokes?" Hermione asked, pretending to be interested.

"Right behind you, you can't miss them," replied Holly.

"Hmm…" Hermione slid closer to the edge of the bench so that she could look over her shoulder and see the entirety of the establishment. The Leaky Caldron was hardly vast and so, even in the dim lighting in the pub, the Quidditch squad was obvious. The team had claimed the tavern's largest table in the very centre of the establishment. Also, all of the players were noticeably larger than most of the tavern's patrons and all were clad in their bright red jerseys. Hermione immediately realized why Holly was so excited regarding their entrance; all seemed, on first glance, to be particularly attractive.

"Oh Merlin" – Holly gasped – "I think that one is Oliver Wood." The blonde was overcome by a string of giggles. "I used to be so in love with him!" She exclaimed. Hermione mentally factored graduation years and realized that Holly would have been around the same age as the former Gryffindor keeper. Holly had been a Hufflepuff several years above Hermione. While their tenures at Hogwarts had overlapped, the two young women hadn't known each other during their school years.

"Really?" Hermione commented. She hadn't taken a long enough look to see if she had personally recognized any of the Quidditch players. Although she had hardly ever spoken with Oliver Wood at Hogwarts, she definitely would have been able to pick him out of a crowd. Straining her neck to get a better look at the team, Hermione carefully scanned the young men trying to note the familiar face. From her vantage point in the booth, Hermione scrutinized the first few, hoping that they wouldn't notice her stares from her spot at the back of the tavern. The first of the Quidditch players were not men Hermione knew. She continued looking over the players, taking a quick intake of air when her eyes stopped on one in particular. He was tall, handsome, and there was something undeniably recognizable about his face. Also, his hair would have prevented him from going anywhere undetected; the conspicuous, bright red was unlikely to go unnoticed.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please follow or leave a review if you would like to make my day awesome! [note: I know there's something lame about begging for comments and I apologize for doing so and won't do it again, but, trust me, receiving comments and suggestions make the writing experience sooooooo much better and definitely leads to faster updates! – Would love to hear any suggestions or requests!] Also, I know I've introduced several new characters to this story which I know lots of people don't really like, but don't worry, most of the story will be about familiar characters – Hermione just needed some work mates. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Thanks for all the lovely comments and follows. Ps. Spelling of "cauldron" has now been fixed. Thanks to beatlechicksteph for catching that one…Story and characters [other than the ones I've created] all belong to JK. _

"Hermione!" Holly Landry's exclamation broke Hermione Granger's concentration. Hermione had been gazing at the team of Quidditch players who had entered the Leaky Cauldron. She reluctantly pulled her stare from the individual Quidditch player who had captured her interest and reengaged with her two companions. "Was it Oliver Wood? Did you see? Was it him? Do you think he's here?" Holly eagerly rattled off her series of questions, her pale gray eyes gleaming with excitement as she ran a hand through her short blonde hair.

"Er, I actually didn't see," Hermione faltered, realizing that she never completed her scan of all the team members.

"Really? You were looking over there long enough," Holly pointed out, casting Hermione a penetratingly furtive glance. "Perhaps, there was another Quidditch bloke who has captured the interest of our young, dear friend." Holly suggested to Klara who answered Holly's speculation with a smile.

"Perhaps" – Klara added – "Is that so, Mione?" When Hermione's normally pale cheeks broke into a telltale, deep blush, her two companions fell into a chorus of the type of giggles that was so easily induced by several glasses of alcohol and the prospect of attractive young men. Klara's soft tingling chimes ended before Holly's loud guffaws. She excitedly patted Hermione multiple times on the upper thigh: "Which one is it, Mione," Klara asked through her giggles. "I'm going mental not being able to see these guys."

"Oh shush. You have a boyfriend" – Holly interjected – "So, Mione. Which one of these guys are you checking out? I have to know!"

"Erm, it's not like that." Hermione said, knowing that her rational would disappoint her companions. "It's just an old friend. I basically grew up with one of those players." She, once again, turned around and peeked out of the booth, pointing her forefinger at the Quidditch player in question. "See that red head?" She asked Holly, who was eagerly eying the group of men. "That's George Weasley. We used to be friends."

"Oh damn" – Holly cursed under her breath while she and Hermione returned to normal sitting positions, no longer straining to focus on the team – "I can't believe I forgot you know the Weasley twins."

When Hermione had first joined the Ministry of Magic and, yet again, when she had initially transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had been something of a celebrity. Everyone had been keen to know her and to talk to her about her involvement in reestablishing order within the wizard community. Holly and Klara had both been excited by her status when they had initially met her. The first few times they had hung out as a trio, the other two women had pestered Hermione with questions relating to Horcruxes, Voldemort, and final battles. However, once the novelty of being friends with The Girl Who Assisted The Boy Who Lived had worn off, Holly and Klara had started to simply treat her as they would anyone else. Since Hermione wasn't particularly forthcoming with the topic of her role in the famed battle or her friendship with Harry Potter or the others involved, it didn't surprise Hermione that her friend wouldn't automatically link her to someone like George Weasley.

"Er, yah…well-well we knew each other at school...I-I even dated his younger brother for a bit," Hermione stammered by way of clarification, hoping to divert from the fact that she and George also largely knew each other through their involvement in the celebrated Order of the Phoenix and through fighting side by side in the final battle at Hogwarts. She was by no means ashamed of her past and her heroic status; she just didn't want to continually be defined by her teenaged adventures. Despite her discomfort, Hermione giggled slightly at her own explanation of how she knew George. She wasn't entirely sure why she had brought up her past relationship with his brother, Ron. It had been so long since the two had dated and they had been romantically involved for such a brief amount of time that Hermione hardly even remembered to consider Ron as a former boyfriend.

"Brilliant" – Holly exclaimed – "We have an in! Go invite them over to join us. Do, it Mione! It will be so fun." Holly rushed, excitedly drumming her hands on the tabletop in front of her.

"Er, I don't know…" Hermione contemplated with uncertainty. "I honestly haven't seen George in years." She mentally stained to recall the last time that she had seen Ginny and Ron's older brother. The last she time could distantly remember interacting with the Weasley twin had been at Fred and Angelina's wedding, and that had been three summers prior and she had only briefly spoken with George after the ceremony.

"Of course you haven't, Mione," Holly stated succinctly. "You do know that he's been in Egypt playing Quidditch right? It created quite the buzz amongst all us single gals…super good looking, rich, business owner leaving London to go play Qudditch. Sad day for all of us, indeed," Holly hung her head in mock regret as to what could have been.

"Oh of course," Hermione exclaimed, shocked that she had forgotten about George's recent whereabouts. She recalled when George had left for Cairo to join a professional Quidditch league. Ginny had invited her to his going away party, but she had just started at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and work had prevented her from attending.

"Perfect…so you go talk to him, and invite him and the two fittest blokes back over here so I can take my pick," Holly laughed. "Or maybe I could just take both," She added cheekily. Hermione tried not to wince at her friend's sexual frankness. Hermione did not consider herself to be a prude – she had gone through her share of gentlemen friends – but Holly was significantly more outspoken regarding such matters than that to which Hermione was accustomed. At times, Ginny could be rather over-sharing as to such regards, but Hermione preferred to keep her own private matters private.

"Don't give Mione such a hard time," Klara idly commented, clearly amused by the struggle occurring between her two friends.

"Er, Hol….maybe…." Hermione muttered. She shifted her body and, once again peered out of the booth to study the Quidditch team. Taking a long look at them, only made Hermione feel more nervous about the prospect of approaching the group, even with already knowing George. The team was significantly more rambunctious than the rest of the tavern's patrons. While most in the Leaky Cauldron were sitting quietly, enjoying drinks or food with companions, the Quidditch team was clearly far more determined to make a party of their night. The seven men had claimed the largest table: one in the very middle of the establishment. They had ordered several large pitchers of Butterbeer, which they were drinking quickly, seemingly racing each other as to who could first finish their glass. While Hermione had always been brave regarding most adventures, even those of the life-threatening variety, introducing herself to a large group of loud, young men on her lonesome was more than a little intimidating.

"They look awful fun…" Holly said wistfully.

"What if you both go over there?" Klara suggested with an appeasing smile. "If I know anything about Quidditch players, it's that they enjoy being approached by pretty girls."

"Hear that, Mione. I think she makes a good point." Holly giggled.

"Well" – Hermione sighed, resigned to the fact that Klara and Holly would always find a way to coax her out of her comfort zone – "I suppose…"

"Brilliant! Let's go!" Holly exclaimed before Hermione had the opportunity to reverse her decision. Hermione slowly pushed herself out of the booth, intentionally moving deliberately so that her friend would have to wait just a smidge longer before meeting the Quidditch team.

"You coming with, Klara?" Hermione asked her other companion. Klara merely shook her head and then brushed a wayward strand of her dark hair off her delicate features.

"No, I'll stay here. Hold the booth 'til you're back. Good luck girls," She said with a smile over her wine glass that revealed her slightly crooked, two front teeth. Motioning with the back of her hand for the other two to make their way towards the young men's table, Klara coolly lounged back, finishing the remainder of her white wine. Hermione wasn't sure whether to take Klara's obvious interest and excitement at their prospects as a good omen or a bad. She decided to brush off such concerns, reminding herself that she had no reasons to be worried, and instead obediently followed Holly to the middle of the tavern where the Quidditch players were situated.

-o-O-o-

As she and Holly approached the middle table, Hermione chuckled at the observation that the Quidditch team was far and away the loudest group in the tavern. The Leaky Cauldron was small and normally cozy; Hermione imagined that all of the other patrons must have been annoyed by the disruptive antics of the team. The team clearly had intentions of consuming considerable quantities of Butterbear and they didn't seem to make any efforts to keep their conversations quiet or private. The seven men initially seemed more interested in their own rowdiness than in the approaching Hermione and Holly. It wasn't until the two young women were right beside their table that any of the Quidditch players paid them any heed.

"Oi, what have we here?" A sizable man with cropped, dark hair exclaimed, being the first of the team to finally notice Hermione and Holly. He stood up from the table and draped a heavy arm over both the girls, pulling the two of them tightly beside him. Hermione was used to Holly being the tallest person whenever they went somewhere together, but the athlete dwarfed her friend. Consequently, he towered over the decidedly average heighted Hermione. Hermione's breath was slightly laboured, as she felt rather uncomfortable to be trapped underneath the large man's armpit. Also, the man smelt strongly of both beer and body odor. His bright, red jersey was damp with sweat, indicating to Hermione that the team had come to the Leaky Cauldron directly from a game or practice.

"Er, hello…" Hermione mumbled with a voice muffled from being trapped next to the Quidditch player. Hermione peered past his giant torso at the table of Quidditch players, looking for George. She easily noticed the telltale red hair at one corner of the table. George was engaged in conversation with another player, and didn't seem to be aware that his large teammate had found interest in the two young women.

"Mates, didn't I tell you we'd have fun here tonight," the hulking young man proclaimed goodheartedly. His hand – roughly the size of a dinner plate – clapped Hermione on the shoulder. Even though Hermione was not enjoying being sandwiched next to his side, she could tell that the man only meant well. Straining her neck to glance at Holly across the Quidditch player's broad chest, she managed to make eye contact with her friend, who was tucked beneath his other arm. Hermione giggled at the realization that her friend possessed none of the reservations she did; a bright, winning smile played across Holly's face and Hermione easily spotted the familiar mischievous expression that Holly would wear whenever she liked the direction in which a night was headed.

"Oi, is that Granger?" George exclaimed from the end of the table. His head perked up and he sat up taller, removing his attention from his conversation with the other Quidditch player, who, Hermione noted upon a second glance, was, indeed, Oliver Wood. "What are you doing here, Granger?" George yelled boisterously from across the table. He stood up and strode around the table towards Hermione.

"Hey George," Hermione commented softly, unsure how to greet the young man whom she had not seen in so long. George, however, did not display similar hesitations.

"Let me have a turn, Matty," George said with a wide grin to his teammate whose arm was still around Hermione's shoulder. Grabbing her free arm George pulled her away from his larger teammate. Once again, Hermione was constricted and she strained to breathe as George scooped her into a powerful bear hug, one that lifted her feet off the wooden slats of the tavern's floor. She could tell from his overabundant exuberance and the smell on his breath that George had been drinking, but he was obviously not overly intoxicated. His embrace was warm and secure and Hermione had no fears that George would lose his balance while she was in his arms. Unlike his teammate, whose sweaty odor had been overwhelming and unpleasant, when Hermione's face softly came into contact with George's neck she thought that his scent was merely musky, outdoorsy, and rather comforting. After holding her for a moment, George gently placed Hermione back on the ground, not letting go until she was firmly steadied on her feet.

"Hey George," Hermione reiterated awkwardly; his enthusiastic hug had both literally and figuratively taken her off her feet. She idly straightened the wrinkles out of her dress that had been caused by George's embrace and smiled at him. He was grinning widely and proudly wearing his bright scarlet jersey, even though it clashed appallingly with his hair. For the most part, her old friend looked the same as when she had seen him last; the bright red hair and intensely blue eyes hadn't changed. He had, however, filled out considerable. George had always been quite stocky, but he was now visibly broader through the shoulders and chest. Something, Hermione assumed, that must be accredited to his increased Quidditch training.

"It's great to see you Hermione," George replied good-naturedly. "It's been way too long since I've seen you last. You look fantastic. Look how much you've grown…I don't think I've seen you since you were yea high," He laughed and help up his palm horizontally below his shoulder, Hermione's exact current height.

"Very funny Weasley" – Hermione muttered ironically – "What brings you back into town?" She asked. Glancing around the table of Quidditch players she saw that none were paying attention to her and George; all had returned to previous conversations. In the corner of her vision, Hermione saw Holly playfully chatting with the large team member whom George had referred to as Matty. "Last I remembered you were in Egypt…" Hermione continued, aware that could monopolize George's time for awhile without frustrating his team.

"Oh yah, I was" – George responded – "I was playing for a Quidditch team there. But I just signed with Puddlemere United, so I'm back in London. Playing here now," He paused and ran a hand through his bright hair. Hermione noted that it was shaggier than it had been at Fred's wedding, when he had worn it cropped closer to his head. His hair fell over his forehead, almost into his bright, blue eyes. It curled slightly around his intact ear, but entirely hid the jagged scar that he had gotten when a Death Eater attack had claimed the other. The longer hair gave George a look of disheveled confidence that was particularly appealing. He stood casually, looking roguishly laidback. Hermione couldn't help but speculate as to whether George had grown significantly more attractive since she had seen him last, or if she was just remembering him poorly.

"Er, what happened with your shop," Hermione asked in order to quickly change the topic to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, hoping that George hadn't observed the way she was staring at his hair and admiring how he was currently wearing it.

"Oh, Fred's taken charge of that mostly. We've got a good team…they can get by without me," George chucked. "So, what have you been up to, Granger?" he questioned.

"Hmm…not much," Hermione knew that her life wasn't quite as glamorous as living on another continent and playing Quidditch professionally. "I'm just working at the Ministry still. It's pretty good…" Her sentence trailed off at the end as she couldn't think of anything interesting to say about her job.

"Yah?" George asked with a certain kind inflection in his tone that caused Hermione wonder if he saw past her positive comment, sensing the dissatisfaction that lay beneath it. "Well, I don't want to hear about work, Granger," He added with a smile, "What else is new with you?"

"Erm, not a lot," Hermione muttered, wishing she had more exciting information to share, "Work does take up a lot of my time. I try to see your family whenever I can." She knew her final comment wasn't entirely true. Often weeks would elapse between the times she saw the Weasleys, but thought it best to bring the conversation to her and George's most obvious common ground. Besides, it was not as if she never saw the Weasleys; they were still an important family, arguably the most important family, in Hermione's life. After she and Ron had broken up, Hermione had gone for some time where she wasn't sure how welcomed she was at the Burrow. She knew that there were no hard feelings between her and Ron, but she worried that Mrs. Weasley perceived her as a bit of a heartbreaker, as though she was living up to the scarlet woman reputation with which reporter Rita Skeeter had branded her in her forth-year. Mrs. Weasley's cool treatment had left Hermione disheartened. The break up between her and Ron had been mutual and it had hardly left Ron floundering, something to which the string of Ministry secretaries he had dated afterwards would obviously attest. Still, it had taken awhile before Hermione had felt comfortable in the Burrow; by then she had fallen out of her weekly habit of having dinner with the large, wizard family.

"So you're going to be there for Christmas dinner?" George asked in a friendly manner.

"I don't know. I haven't been invited yet," Hermione said in a speculative tone.

"Yes you have," George smiled. After Hermione furled her eyebrows in uncertainty, George continued: "I've just invited you right now." He laughed and lightheartedly rubbed Hermione on the shoulder.

"Oh" – Hermione chuckled, her skin mysteriously tingling on the spot where George had touched her – "I didn't know you had that privilege," She teased, hoping to detract from the blush that had arisen on her cheeks when George's hand had come into contact with her shoulder.

"Of course I do, Mione…I'm home for the holidays for the first time in years. Don't you think I'm going to be treated as a star? I could invite Malfoy and get away with it," George said with a smirk of mock self-importance that Hermione could readily tell was in good-natured jest.

"Well, I'll pencil you in…maybe show up if I can get away from my busy lineup for that day," Hermione smiled. She inwardly groaned at her lame attempt at humor; she had no previous plans scheduled for Christmas, a fact she didn't feel like disclosing.

"I'm not going to take no for an answer, Granger…As far as I'm concerned, mum's already set a spot for you,"

"Well…ok. You've managed to convince me," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. The Burrow was where she figured she would end up celebrating Christmas, regardless of George's invite.

"Hey! Weasley!" Matty's booming voice broke up Hermione and George's interaction. Hermione turned and saw the large Quidditch player eagerly waving in their direction. "We're all going to hit up a club or something. You're coming too!" Matty had a wide smile on his red face and he looked very excited about the prospect of their intended destination.

"Er, I should really go with them," George muttered quietly to Hermione. "Tonight was kind of intended as a welcoming me to the team sort of thing," He looked embarrassed to be cutting their conversation short, so Hermione hastily tried to reassure him:

"Oh of course. Yah, you have to go with your team," She smiled.

"Hey, are you girls going to come along?" – Matty yelled even though both Hermione and Holly were easily earshot – "Nothing fun about a group of blokes going dancing together…We could always use a couple of pretty girls," Hermione wasn't sure how exactly to perceive his Neanderthalic statement, but one glance at Holly and her large smile and enthusiastic eyes told her that her friend wasn't put off by it in the least. With only her eyebrows and her expression, in the way so many women know how to silently communicate with their girlfriends, Hermione tried to convey to Holly her trepidations about accompanying the Quidditch team to their next locale.

"Er…I don't think we'll be able to make it," Holly volunteered, obviously having picked up on Hermione's insecurity. "Our friend is over there" – she gestured towards the back of the tavern were Klara was still sitting on her lonesome – "And we came out tonight to enjoy some girl time together…but you guys have fun and we'll see you around." As always, the men responded favourably to the blonde's winning smile and didn't complain too much that she and Hermione weren't going to accept their invitation.

"Well, it was really nice seeing you," George placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder and spoke quietly just to her, "I'll look forward to seeing you for Christmas," He smiled and gently embraced Hermione before she turned around to leave.

"Yah, you too," Hermione responded brightly. She wasn't entirely sure why, but as she walked back to the corner of the tavern to rejoin Klara, shuffling her feet quickly to keep up with Holly's much longer strides, she found that she was actually quite excited for when she would see him next.

"So, how were the boys," Klara asked when Holly and Hermione sat down at their booth. "Were they all you wanted and more, Hol?" She teased.

"There were amazing," Holly sighed. Hermione had to chuckle, as always, at her friend's undeniable zeal towards the opposite gender. Even though she was in her mid-twenties, Holly reminded Hermione of how the sixth-year girls used to act at Hogwarts.

"You and Matty seemed to hit it off," Hermione smiled while Holly nodded vigorously. "What happened to Oliver Wood? He was sitting at the table the whole time and you didn't even say hello to him,"

"I can like both, can't I?" Holly sighed wistfully, inducing laugher from both Hermione and Klara. The three young women fell back into easy conversation, until Klara finally looked at her delicate, silver watch, gasping when she realized how long they had been chatting.

"Yikes, you guys. I told Keith I'd be back almost an hour ago," She groaned, referring to her live-in boyfriend. "I have to get going,"

"Yah, I should go too," Hermione contributed. "I'm exhausted…but it was awesome hanging with you girls," The other two nodded their concurrences and the three coworkers hugged goodbyes before bundling up in their jackets, mittens, and scarves to brave the cold of the late evening on their respective trips back to their homes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

_Author's note: As always, thanks for reading. Also as always, not mine. 10 points to Gryffindor for anyone who picks up the Anne of Green Gables references in this chapter…PS I apologize in advance that the next few chapters are going to be odd lengths. It made sense to break up the story in certain spots that didn't really allow for all the chapters to be similar in length. _

The following week was one filled with drudgery for Hermione. The editing she was supposed to do on the _Amendment to the Act for the Proper use of "Electronic" Muggle Artifacts _was tedious and tiring. Not only was the proposed legislation filled with grammatical and spelling errors, but the drafter had clearly used such Muggle phrases as internet, cell phone, and computer without a sound understanding as to what the words meant or to what sort of items they referred. Consequently, Hermione was forced to be in constant correspondence with the relevant department members in order to figure out to what exactly the legislation pertained.

For three consecutive nights, she didn't make it back to her flat until after dark had already settled. On those nights she was exhausted when she arrived at home, sometimes to the point where she couldn't even finish a chapter of the book she was in the midst of before collapsing into sleep. The prospect of Christmas at the Burrow kept her sustained throughout the week. Knowing that Mrs. Weasley would be preparing a mouthwatering feast and that all her closest friends would be gathered together kept Hermione going through the late evenings that she spent slumped at her desk, hunched over the demanding parchment.

-o-O-o-

Several days after her encounter with George at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione had awoken to her owl, Gilbert, tapping at her bedroom window. Letting the tiny, pure white bird into her room, Hermione quickly snatched a folded piece of parchment off its leg. Instinctively, she smiled when she recognized Ginny's familiar printing.

"Mione" – Ginny had written – "I can't believe that I haven't mentioned this yet, but would you be able to spend Christmas at the Burrow with us? Sorry for such short notice. Hope to see you there, Gin,"

Hermione dug a quill out of a desk drawer and flipped over the parchment to jot down a brief acceptance on the back of Ginny's note: "That sounds great, Gin. Can't wait to see you," She didn't mention that she had already been invited by Ginny's older brother, deciding that such a detail was unimportant. She tied the note to Gilbert's foot and encouraged the small bird out of the window. Gilbert shuddered slightly and ruffled his feathers before hopping out into the snowy morning. As she watched the small owl strain against the breezy weather, Hermione smiled. It wasn't until she received the conclusiveness of Ginny's invitation that she realized just how excited she was to have the chance to spend the holiday with the Weasleys. She knew that, even if the remainder of the week before her Christmas break felt unending and exhausting, at least she had the company of friends over Christmas on the horizon.

-o-O-o-

Hermione woke on Christmas morning filled with anticipation. It wasn't the same naïve enthusiasm that she used to feel as a child on the same day, when she would jump out of bed well before her parents were awake, to go explore her stocking and survey what awaited her under the family's Christmas tree, but it was close. She kicked off her heavy, lavender duvet and sprung out of bed. Glancing out of her window onto Diagon Alley, the street her flat overlooked, she gleefully noted that the weather had been busy the previous night; the road was covered by a soft, fresh offering of brand new snow. Hermione grinned and squealed slightly to herself. There was something about a white Christmas that always appealed to her.

After her morning shower, Hermione secured the buckle on her snuggest pair of jeans: a pair with a dark wash and a narrow leg. She wasn't entirely sure about the slender style when she had bought them in a trendy, Muggle boutique during a marathon shopping spree with Holly, but the other woman had gushed so energetically about how well they suited her that Hermione had been persuaded. Rummaging through a stack of sweaters that lay folded in a cupboard in her closet, Hermione eventually picked out a deep, woodsy green jumper, figuring that the colour was appropriate for the occasion. Also, she knew the green complimented her golden brown hair and eyes, that the colour was dark enough that it didn't wash out her pale complexion, and that the soft, cable knit clung to her slender waist favourably. Brushing her hair as straight as possible and with a couple finishing touches of magic, her hair finally lay smoothly over her shoulders. After a few squirts of a vanilla-scented perfume Ginny had given her on her birthday, Hermione deemed her appearance acceptable and left her room to throw something together quickly for her breakfast.

Hermione had lived in her snug flat in a popular residence on Diagon Alley for over three years and it was starting to finally feel like home. She had slowly and deliberated added personal touches to make the one-bedroom apartment feel more cozy and familiar. Some brightly coloured art that Hermione had found at a muggle thrift market decorated the walls, and a matching set of mahogany, end-tables and sturdy coffee table bordered the plushy, beige sofas of which Hermione was particularly fond. After almost a year of staring at the sterile, white walls of the flat, she had eventually caved and spent an otherwise free weekend panting the walls a soft mauve. Once she had framed some of her old pictures – still ones of her and her parents from when she was a child and ones of her and her Hogwarts chums waving at the camera – and arranged them on her mantle and end-tables, the place became much more livable. The ever present flowers Hermione would keep on her coffee table ensured that her flat always smelt fresh and fragrant. The flat was by no means perfect: there was hardly space in her bedroom for both her bed and her desk, the entire building had a tendency to be unnecessarily cold during the winter months, and the low ceiling could, at times, be suffocating. While not perfect, the flat was adequate, and Hermione knew that the hassle of moving was not worth the minor improvements a new place might offer.

After toasting a couple pieces of wheat bread and spreading them with fine layer of marmalade, Hermione quickly ate her breakfast, impatient about getting to the Burrow soon. Once finished, she lazily dropped her dishes in the sink, knowing that there would be time later to clean them and put them away. Locating an old 'Holidays Greetings' card in a kitchen drawer of miscellaneous items, Hermione contemplated briefly before writing down an appropriately grateful, thank-you message to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for having her at their home. Sealing the card inside an envelope, she propped it up in the potted, Christmas cactus she had picked out as a gift for Mrs. Weasley. Not long ago, she had been shopping with Ginny when her friend had pointed out a similar plant, mentioning that her mum liked them. At the time Hermione had jotted down a quick reminder in her notepad, hoping that it would be a present Mrs. Weasley would appreciate.

Hermione made her way to her front door where she pulled on her checked wellingtons over the legs of her jeans and bundled up in her plaid-lined trench coat, favourite, old, Gryffindor scarf, matching grey, knitted mittens and tuque. Even though she knew that travelling by floo powder would be easiest – as her fireplace was connected to Weasley's via the floo network – she was excited about going outside into the snow.

Diagon Alley was still and empty and the fallen snow lay smoothly over the road, still unblemished by footprints. Hermione assumed that the local children were more excited about their unopened presents than about roughhousing in the snow. She was glad that she had taken the opportunity to walk in the fresh snow before it was ruined by the tracks of walkers, haphazard snowmen and the rough outlines of snow angels. Whoever was responsible for maintaining the wizard neighborhood had ensured that every detail on the street reflected the holiday season. Twinkling lanterns were levitating above the street, giving off a soft, white light. All the store fronts were decorated with evergreen floral embellishments. Any trees along the street were covered with lights and seasonal ornaments. Occasional snowflakes still fell, sticking to Hermione's knitted hat.

Hermione carefully and contentedly trudged through the snow with her cactus tucked under her arm. The calve-deep snow was not the most conducive to walking and so it took Hermione longer than normal to reach the designated apparating spot at the end of Diagon Alley. Nevertheless, she was happy with her decision to travel by foot; the clear air lifted up her spirits that had been dampened by her difficult week. The prickling on her exposed cheeks and nose from the cold felt appropriately Christmassy and she slyly remembered that she always looked significantly prettier when her face boasted a rosy glow.

-o-O-o-

Once in the Ministry approved apparating area, Hermione instinctively braced herself before commencing the necessary process for apparating. The sensations hit her with a startling suddenness: her stomach felt as if it was falling to the ground, her head spun wildly, and the Diagon Alley environment rapidly disappeared into a blur of swirling colours. The mode of transportation always left Hermione feeling woozy. As soon as she was aware of rematerializing on the Burrow's front walk, she attempted to balance herself while, mentally, she continued to spin. When her world finally steadied, Hermione started her way up the snow-covered walk to the Burrow's main entrance. The absence of footprints on the walk made Hermione wonder if she was the first to arrive. Although, she reminded herself, others might have been spending the previous night at the Burrow or may have travelled there by Floo powder. Her arrival time was likely unnecessarily early, but as it was Christmas and as nothing was formal at the Weasley's house, she felt she could get away with being early.

A striking and elaborate, evergreen wreath stuck full of holly, red berries, sparkly bows, and miniature, moving figurines of whistling songbirds adorned the Weasley's front gate. The wreath took up most of the door. Hermione hesitated, looking for a free spot upon which to knock before settling on taping an available surface of the door right in the centre of the ornament. The holidays were always Mrs. Weasley's time to shine and she generally took to them with an undeniable vigour. Hermione was sure that the inside of the Burrow would offer similar, if not more, seasonal fineries. She knocked again, a bit louder, when no one came to the door. This time, she heard movement inside the house and knew that someone was on their way to greet her.

The door flew open and Ginny flung herself at Hermione with such force that, despite her petite size, she nearly knocking the cactus out of the crook of Hermione's arm.

"Mione! You made it! I'm so happy!" The feisty red-head exclaimed in excited staccatos.

"Er…good to see you too, Gin," Hermione replied, catching her bearings and wrapping Ginny up in a one-armed hug. "I, ah, got this for your mum" – She said, gesturing at the cactus under her arm – "Where is she?"

"Oh, mum…she's in the kitchen. Come with me," Ginny smiled and grabbed Hermione by her free hand to drag her into the house. Ginny's silky straight, bright red hair hung in two long braids. Some strands of hair had escaped the braids and fell over her ears, floating across her face whenever she moved suddenly, which, given the younger girl's lively temperament, was frequently. Unlike Hermione, Ginny hadn't bothered to dress up at all for the occasion; she was wearing worn jeans and a bright blue, Weasley jumper that was so oversized that Hermione had to assume that it had once belonged to one of Ginny's older brothers.

The Burrow already smelt delicious. Hermione's stomach rumpled appreciatively in anticipation of the feast Mrs. Weasley was preparing. Any meal at the Burrow was a legitimate cause for overeating. The sight of the inside of the Weasley's foyer caused Hermione to smile impulsively. That the family had gone to great lengths to ensure that their house looked suited to the season didn't surprise Hermione, but that didn't cause her to appreciate it any less. Every available spot was covered with either holly, poinsettias, or some sort of evergreen detail. A series of twinkling white lights were wound around the railing of the small staircase leading up from the front door and into the rest of the house. A small choir of red and green pigmy puffs was situated on a table at the top of the stairs. The tiny birds and been either trained or enchanted to squawk in tune and they were gleefully hooting familiar seasonal ditties.

"What is that all about?" Hermione asked incredulously at the sight of the chorus of birds, unsure how to fathom how the miniature owls were able to perform the carols so expertly.

"Oh, that's something new that Fred created for Christmas. Yuletide Pygmies…something like that…" Ginny replied merrily. "Sounds as if they're pretty popular at the shop this year."

"They're brilliant," Hermione whistled, with a silly grin covering her face. The tiny birds were irrefutably adorable. Hermione could have stood and watched them rhythmically bouncing around on the table's surface, hooting her favourite carols for the rest of the morning, but Ginny continued marching towards the Weasley's kitchen, dragging Hermione along behind her as she walked.

"Mum! Mum!" Ginny hollered as she led Hermione into the kitchen.

"Oh sweetie, it's so lovely that you were able to make it," Mrs. Weasley looked up from the sink and wiped her hands on her green and red plaid apron. Much like her home, Mrs. Weasley looked fully festive. Her curly, red hair was held back behind her ear by a spring of holly, tiny, blinking earrings swayed from her ears, and a wee snowman broach sat on the bosom of her apron. "It's so nice to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley continued, smothering Hermione in a tight embrace.

"Yah, it's so great to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied, her voice muffled by Mrs. Weasley's tight hold. "I'm sorry I'm here so early…" She was glad that Mrs. Weasley had welcomed her so warmly; it indicated to Hermione that he chilly period which she and Molly had experienced following her breakup with Ron was likely completely in the past.

"Oh, not a problem at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley quickly brushed off Hermione's apology. "We're so glad you're here. And you're not early. Besides, you're welcomed here whenever,"

"Erm thanks…would you care for some help?" Hermione always offered her assistance to Mrs. Weasley even though it was always declined; Mrs. Weasley was fiercely independent regarding what happened in her kitchen.

"Oh, no dear," Mrs. Weasley predictably responded. "I have everything here under control," She said, grinning and motioning at the kitchen counters. Multiple knives were furiously working on the countertops: cutting up vegetables, slicing ham, mincing onions, and chopping potatoes. Eggs, flour, and milk flew around the kitchen as they measured and mixed themselves into a large bowl, while a vat of raspberry cordial was being vigorously stirred by a free-floating ladle. The large, stone oven in the corner of the Weasley's kitchen was humming contently, filled, Hermione was sure, with a massive turkey; the typical main course of a Weasley Christmas dinner. Even though Hermione completely trusted the older woman's magical skills, she had no desire to put herself in the path of an enchanted knife and was glad that Mrs. Weasley wasn't eager to keep her in the kitchen. Taking the Christmas cactus from Hermione and placing it on a free spot of countertop, Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at Hermione and Ginny: "Why don't you two go upstairs. Dinner won't be ready for awhile."

"Ok Mum," Ginny grinned and turned to Hermione: "Come on! Let's go," Hermione muttered another thank-you to Mrs. Weasley and eagerly followed the scampering Ginny out of the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

_Author's note: Not mine, JK's – Sorry this is a very short chapter, but I hope you like it regardless. Will update soon. PS. The Anne of Green Gable references in the previous chapter were the owl named Gilbert [after Blyth], the raspberry cordial [a drink Anne and Diane enjoy], and that Ginny was wearing two braids [since she, like Anne, has red hair – that one was pretty weak, I know.] _

Ginny's bedroom hadn't changed much since Hermione had spent time living at the Burrow after the final battle, sharing the room with Ginny. The old bed in which she used to sleep still stood in the same corner of the room. Ginny's old Quidditch posters were still on the walls and many of the same pictures adorned her night table. Hermione contently flopped into her old bed while Ginny perched on her own.

"How's work, Mione?" Ginny asked, tossing aside Quidditch playbooks that were taking up a good portion of her old, patchwork quilt. Ginny had been playing with the Holyhead Harpies at the Chaser position for the past few years. Hermione giggled instinctively at the realization the Ginny would frequently be competing with her older brother; the Harpies were in the same division of the same league as Puddlemore United, the team that George had recently joined.

"Meh, it's alright," Hermione responded noncommittally. "How's the team?" She asked, pointing at the wall-sized, Holyhead Harpies' banner that had adorned Ginny's room for years.

"It's great!" Ginny declared animatedly. "I think that we're going to have a really strong team this year. A really good chance to take the league…" Ginny continued excitedly in a rapid stream of chatter about her Quidditch team. Hermione did her best to keep up with her friend's descriptions of her team, their plays, and their upcoming season. Quidditch was never something she really managed to understand, but she smiled and nodded, nevertheless, knowing how important the sport was to Ginny.

"And you and Harry….how are you two?" Hermione questioned as soon as Ginny stopped to take a breath, causing a pause in her Quidditch talk.

"We're great," Ginny's smile was introspective, "Still going strong….Wouldn't be surprised if sometime soon…" Ginny added cryptically and waved her left hand in front of her suggestively. "He's doing well…loves his Auror work. And you? Any blokes in your life, Mione?"

"Erm…" Hermione feebly answered. It had been some time since she had gone on her last date. In the beginning of October she had gone for dinner with a young man with whom she used to work in the Department of the Care and Control of Magical Creatures. It hadn't been particularly noteworthy and hadn't even resulted in a second date. "No…not really…not at all…" She muttered. Fortunately, Ginny seemed to have sensed that the conversation was a nonstarter with Hermione and abruptly changed to topic to gossip about their former classmates. While Hermione generally considered herself above the speculation about the lives of others, she, nevertheless, liked hearing what her old friends and acquaintances were up to and Ginny was always on the pulse of such news.

The two young women chatted for the reminder of the morning and into the afternoon, the conversation drifting between news of friends, recollections of tales from their Hogwarts days, Ginny's family, Harry and Ron's Auror work, the twin's shop, and recent changes within the Ministry of Magic. Hermione never ran out of things to say when she was with Ginny; breaks in their conversations were rare, as one topic always seemed to lead seamlessly into another. Every time Hermione had the chance to be around Ginny, she regretted how long it had been since they had seen each other last. Even if only a week had passed between when they had last seen each other it felt too long for Hermione. With the demands of Ginny's Quidditch schedule and Hermione's work, often much longer would elapse between their paths crossing. Also, Harry had a tendency to tag along with Ginny whenever she and Hermione would meet up. While Hermione obviously appreciated her friendship with him, Harry's presence always managed to frustratingly cut in on her girl time with Ginny.

When Ginny glanced at her watch and mentioned that it was time to get ready for dinner, Hermione was shocked; it hadn't seemed that they had been talking for that long.

"Hey, I'm going to get ready for dinner" – Ginny mentioned, slowly sitting up on her bed – "Why don't I meet you downstairs?"

"Yah that sounds alright," Hermione replied. She reluctantly rolled off of her old bed, not wanting to leave her comfortable prone position. "See you down there, Gin," She added. Stifling an absentminded yawn, Hermione left Ginny's room and closed the door behind her, allowing her friend to change in private. She started to lazily amble down the hallway towards the steep staircase that led to the Weasley's main floor.

"Hey Mione! How's it going, mate?" A familiar voice yelled at her from the other end of the hall.

"Oh hey George," Hermione replied, turning to greet the Weasley twin who had called to her. "Oh, er," Hermione stammered; the sight of him had caught her off guard. Having evidently come directly from the shower, George was wearing only low slung jeans and a rust-coloured towel draped casually around his shoulders. His damp hair was slicked back carelessly and his bare chest still glistened with shimmering water droplets. Hermione tried not to notice how much his physique had benefited from his obviously grueling Quidditch training and practices. His hip bones jutted out suggestively over the waistband of his jeans, his shoulders were broad, and his arms boasted muscles Hermione was not accustomed to seeing on other men. She also noticed that he had several irregularly-shaped bruises of various shades on his torso and wondered if they were injuries from playing Quidditch. "Erm, h-how are…er…how's it going, George?" She hastily asked, straining her neck to force herself to maintain eye contact with him, willing her line of vision not to drift down to his exposed and chiseled chest.

"Oh, it's pretty good," George replied in a laidback tone his blue eyes shining amicably. Hermione envied his coolness; she found herself feeling only more tense as he approached her along the hall. "I'm really glad you made it," He continued, rubbing his head vigorously with the towel that had been around his shoulders, causing his disheveled hair to stick up haphazardly around his head. As he lifted his arm to dry his hair, the muscles surrounding his upper arm bulged noticeable. Hermione bit her bottom lip and felt her face grow flush. She worried that her cheeks had taken on embarrassingly tell-tale blush. It would be appalling for Hermione if George was aware of how her heart had started beating increasingly rapidly as he made his way down the hall, stopping to stand right beside her. If George was privy, however, he didn't let it show. He stood effortlessly, his broad shoulders slightly hunched to bring himself closer to Hermione's height while he continued to dry his hair with his towel.

"W-well, ah…thanks for the invite, George," She said in as lackadaisical tone as she could muster giving the dryness of her mouth, hoping that he was unable to detect the slight strain in her voice. Entwining her hands behind her back, Hermione attempted the coolest posture she could imagine: leaning against the wall.

"Hey, think nothing of it" – he grinned – "We're all happy you're here,"

"Yah? Well…ah…I-I'm p-pretty glad to be here too," Hermione stammered. "Er…so…how was the rest of your welcoming party the other day?" She asked, referring to the previous week when she had seen George at the Leaky Cauldron with his Quidditch team. She tried her best to smile casually. Self-consciously, she twisted a stray strand of hair around her forefinger, stopping when she realized that she probably looked as if she was trying to act flirtatiously.

"Oh, Mione" – George chuckled ruefully – "When Quidditch blokes go out to party, they go out to party. I didn't get back to my flat until the wee hours of the morning and I'm still not entirely sure how I made it home…I think I still might be feeling that night." He shook his head contritely, causing his now-dry hair to sweep across his forehead.

"Well…I'm glad we decided not to tag along with you guys…I definitely can't handle those types of nights…" Hermione replied, finding it amusing that she was carrying on a relatively normal conversation with the shirtless George.

"Oh, I think we would have had more fun if you were there, Granger," There was something rather attractive about George's grin. Something about the combination of his smile, his compliment, and his lack of shirt left Hermione feeling infuriatingly flustered. She recalled that she was supposed to be on her way to the Weasley's living room and figured that she could use that as excuse to leave the awkward situation.

"Ah, George. I should get going. See you downstairs in a bit."

"Yah, sure thing…see you later, Mione," His reply was friendly and easygoing. He turned to enter the door to the room that Hermione recalled he used to share with Fred.

"Ahh…" Hermione fumbled, trying to decide whether to say something to his retreating, well-built back before settling on saying nothing. She continued her walk down the hall to the stairs. "Ugh, keep it together, Granger…you've known him since you were kids…even though he's clearly not a kid anymore…obviously…" Hermione gave herself a mental reprimand as she descended the steep stairwell that led towards the Weasley's living room. It wasn't much like her to act silly around young men. Also, she knew better than to blatantly ogle others, especially not men with whom she had grown up, even those who had become remarkably good-looking. "_Remember not to lose your head around fit blokes:" _the gentle, but sometimes necessary, reminder had been scribbled in her notebook almost a year ago; the last time she had acted foolishly around a handsome gentleman. She continued chastising herself over the silly and inane way in which she had reacted to George – one of her oldest friends, nonetheless – the rest of the ways down the stairs, through the corridor and into the living room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

_Thanks for reading. Still not mine – JK's! _

"Hermione!" A chorus of her voices greeted Hermione the moment she stepped into the Burrow's living room. The room was crowded. Hermione immediately noticed Harry and Ron sitting on the smaller of the two couches. Teddy – Harry's five-year-old godson – was curled up between them. Fred and Angelina were on the other of the Weasley's high-backed, paisley couches. Both were holding an infant. Hermione knew the two babies were Ethan and Sophie: the couple's newborn twins. Much like the rest of the house, the living room was covered in Christmas decorations, the most noteworthy being the impressively tall, evergreen tree that stood in one corner. The ceiling of the Weasley's living room was already high, but the tree was even taller. The top portion had to be folded over in order to allow the tree to fit into the room, leaving no space for a star at the top. It was covered in lights, various ordainments, shiny, coloured balls, and several strands of sparkling beads. The tree was far from perfect – the left side stuck out significantly further than the right and the trunk was noticeably crooked – but Hermione thought it was spectacular.

Harry was the first on his feet and at Hermione's side. He quickly enveloped her in an affectionate hug. Someone – Hermione assumed it must have been Ginny – had found an emerald green sweater for Harry that perfectly matched the colour of his eyes as they shone through his trademark, circular glasses.

"It's so lovely to see you," Harry told her as he did every time they were together.

"You too, Harry," Hermione smiled. Her dear friend never failed to lift her spirits, even when they didn't necessarily require a boost. Hermione turned to her other oldest friend, Ron, who was hovering beside Harry. Ron was already wearing a brand-new Weasley sweater, one in a deep blue. The pair embraced lightheartedly. Hermione was always impressed by the way the two of them had been able to date for awhile and then break up amicably and still remain friends without any of the awkwardness one might expect from such an arrangement. Oft times it seemed to Hermione that the person who was most unsettled by her and Ron's breakup was Mrs. Weasley, rather than the two parties most directly involved.

"Nice seeing you, Mione," Ron commented, letting go of her after their hug.

"I'm so glad I'm here…" Hermione said to her two friends. "It would be rubbish to spend Christmas with anyone else." The statement was true: anytime she and Harry and Ron were all together was a special occasion in itself, even without the added bonus of the holidays.

"Granger!" A shout from across the room caught Hermione's attention. She looked up and saw Fred waving at her from the other side of the room.

"Oh Fred!" Hermione exclaimed, excited to see him; she never saw enough of Fred. Since Angelina had given birth to the twins, she had yet to see the couple or the children. Hermione rushed over to the couch, glad to finally become acquainted with the newest additions to the extended Weasley clan. Angelina shuffled a cushion over, making room on the long couch for Hermione.

"Would you like a chance to hold him, Mione?" Fred asked kindly. Hermione nodded and carefully accepted baby Ethan from Fred. Sitting rigidly, Hermione secured a tight grasp of the tiny infant; she wasn't very accustomed to having a baby in her arms and nervously thought about all the ways she might end up dropping or hurting him. Fortunately, the newborn was quiet and still and didn't fight against Hermione's grasp. Both he and his sister were wrapped in identical bright orange, fleece blankets that were embroidered with their initials in a deep magenta. The newest Weasleys bore a strong resemblance to their mother; both shared Angelina's dark, curly hair, dark complexion, and deep brown eyes. There was also something about the twins that Hermione thought was distinctively Fred. She couldn't exactly pin point it, but, looking at Ethan, she was certain that she saw a likeliness of his father in the infant's smile. Hermione thought she could look at the tiny baby for hours. She marveled at his fine eyelashes, his little, adorable balled up fists, and the way spit bubbled around his mouth when he giggled. She had never been around someone so young and new to the world; the experience left her momentarily speechless.

"He's amazing you guys," Hermione admired, having eventually found her voice. Her statement induced a broad smile from the obviously overjoyed Angelina who was tenderly holding her newborn daughter.

"We think he's pretty great….both are pretty fantastic," Fred was the one who responded to her comment. There was an unmistakable trace of pride in his voice for his young children. He leaned over and ruffled Ethan's curly hair, cooing gently at the giggling baby. Fred had changed since Hermione had seen him last, likely as a result of having subsequently become a father. He looked older; for the first time ever, Hermione looked at him and saw an adult. His stomach had grown a bit portly and he had acquired slight bags under his eyes, probably, Hermione figured, from late nights up with Sophie and Ethan. He still wore the mischievous shimmer in his eyes that Hermione had come to expect in both of the older set of Wealsey twins. The keen sense of humor he always had still existed, as evidenced by the ridiculous Christmas sweater he was sporting. The bright red, knit sweater was covered in rows of holiday images, all in the same shade of deep green. Hermione easily picked out snowmen, toy soldiers, reindeer, elves and chubby Saint Nicks.

"Er, that's quite a lovely outfit you have on Fred," Hermione teasingly complimented with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, you like this, eh," Fred grinned, standing up to twirl in order to show off his sweater before finishing by striking an impressive poise. "Georgie and I worked very hard on these,"

"Oi, what's that? Did I just hear my lovely name?" George strutted into the living room the very moment his twin had mentioned him. He strode over and stood next to Fred, adopting a similar poise to his twin's. Hermione didn't try to hide her laughter. George was wearing an identical sweater to Fred's, except that his had a green background while the Christmas figurines were in scarlet. In the back of her mind, Hermione ruefully considered that the outfit was a significant letdown from his previous look. She quickly shook off such inappropriate thoughts. Looking at Fred and George standing next to each other, Hermione realized that for the first time ever she didn't hesitate when trying to tell them apart. Fred's hair was quite a bit shorter than George's and George was more slender than his brother through the waist but larger in the shoulders. Also, George had a laid-back roguishness to him that Fred lacked now that he was a father. As a result, George looked several years younger than Fred, even though Hermione knew that they were mere minutes apart.

"Oh hey George," Hermione said, trying to sound casual, intentionally not mentioning their earlier encounter.

"Good seeing you again, Granger," George said cheekily.

"Hermione was just admiring our sweaters, dear brother," Fred chuckled, patting his twin on the shoulder.

"Well of course she was," George smiled.

"They are brilliant," Fred finished his brother's thought.

"And they suit us so well."

"We must look incredibly handsome."

"How could she not admire us?" George waggled his eyebrows suggestively and flashed an over-exaggerated wink in the direction of Hermione, who held baby Ethan a bit tighter and felt horrified as to what incident George might actually be referencing.

"And we worked ever so hard on them."

"Very hard indeed,"

"Oh, you made those, ah….lovely….things on your own?" Hermione asked incredulously, remembering how difficult a task she had found knitting to be when she had tried to make a collection of caps to give to house elves.

"We sure did," Fred grinned.

"We're remarkably talented, Mione," added George with another wink.

"Well…I'd never know…they look professional," Hermione giggled, finding enjoyment in teasing the original Weasley twins. "So how does it feel to now be everyone's second favourite set of Weasley twins?" She laughed and nodded towards Ethan who was resting contently in her arms.

"It's more difficult knowing that we are now no longer the best looking Weasley twins," George returned Hermione's jovial tone and her laughter. He stared down fondly at his brand new niece and nephew.

"Ok, time to come to dad," Fred, too soon for Hermione's liking, took Ethan from her and sat down next to Angelina. George claimed the other end of the couch. He lounged against the arm of the couch, next to Hermione, with his long legs stretched out in front of him, taking up more than his share of the space. The couch was almost large enough to accommodate all four adults and the two infants comfortably. Hermione's thigh, admittedly, was pressed rather tightly next to George's, but it didn't particularly bother her. Glancing up, she noticed that Ginny had joined the room while she had been fawning over the new Weasley twins. The petite red head was sitting in the midst of Harry, Ron, and Teddy on the other couch.

"So has everyone decided whether they're coming to my New Year's Party?" George asked loudly, addressing the entire room.

"You mean the party that you decided only this morning that you would be hosting?" Fred asked teasingly, explaining why everyone merely looked confused in response to George's question.

"The very one, my dear brother."

"What's this about a party, George," Ginny implored from across the room. The red-head had an excited smile on her face. Her love of fun was only one of the many things she had in common with her two older brothers.

"Well, I needed an excuse to have a bunch of people over to my new flat" – George replied to his beloved younger sister – "And I figured what better time than New Year's Eve to fill my place with friends, family and champagne. You better come. You'll get to meet my new Quidditch teammates."

"Hmm…I don't know about that then. I think that fraternizing with the enemy is out of the question." Ginny joked, indicating that she and George had already discussed the fact that they would be playing for rival teams.

"No, you have to be there, Gin. I'm insisting on it…it would be rubbish without you, my dear."

"Alright, George….Harry and I'll make an appearance." Ginny smiled. Hermione knew that there was never any doubt that Ginny would be at George's party. She and her brother were too close to let something like playing for opposing Quidditch teams come between them.

"And you, Mione," George turned to the young woman on his left. "You'll be coming right. Matty will be expecting you to show up and bring that blonde friend of yours." Hermione rolled her eyes, intentionally ignoring the quizzical looks of the others who were obviously unaware of hers and George's encounter at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Holly Landry?" – Hermione asked even though she knew full well to whom George referred.

"Yah…Holly…that's the one…I think that Matty took a real shine to her…. So tell her he's a good bloke, even if at times he can be a bit of a git. It's obviously important to me that my fellow Beater is happy." George responded. Hermione shook her head, not sure she understood his explanation, unaware of the intricacies of the relationships that existed between Quidditch positions.

"Er, well I'll see what I can do" – Hermione offered – "I'll suppose I'll show up to this party of yours. I don't know about Hol though. I wouldn't be surprised if she already had plans…"

"Brilliant. Well, as long as you're there," George grinned, playfully nudging Hermione in the side with his elbow.

Hermione didn't know how to respond to his overly friendly comment. She was aware that George had a bit of a reputation for being a flirt, but hadn't ever personally experienced that side of him. She opened her mouth to mutter something about how she was looking forward to his party, but was interrupted when Mr. Weasley wandered into the room at the exact moment to instruct everyone to move to the dining room for Mrs. Weasley's meal.

-o-O-o-

Hermione eagerly followed the rest of her friends into the dining room, excited for the feast that Mrs. Weasley had prepared. She slid into an empty chair between Ginny and Ron: the spot she generally claimed for meals with the Weasleys. The rest of the Weasley family was already gathered around the table; it was one of the largest crowds that Hermione had even been a part of around the long, wooden table. Bill, Fleur, and their three young daughters – Victoire, Dominique, and Charlotte – were at one end of the table. Next to them, Percy and his wife, Audrey, were seated with their son Peter in between them. Even Charlie had made it into town for the holidays. He and Bill were talking animatedly about something; Hermione couldn't tell as they were down the other end of the table from her. Both sets of Weasley twins and Angelina were positioned directly across from Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Harry. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had taken the head and the foot of the long table, as was normal for Weasley family dinners.

Mrs. Weasley was standing, her wand held in the air, as she directed the Christmas feast into the kitchen. Pots of potatoes, a boat of gravy, dishes of vegetables, the most massive turkey Hermione had ever seen, and other impressive items floated past Hermione. As the dishes settled on the table, Hermione realized how excited she was for the meal. Molly's food smelt mouthwateringly delicious and looked just as appetizing.

"Thank you everyone for coming," Mrs. Weasley announced once all the dishes found spots on the table. "It's such a joyous occasion to spend Christmas with everyone. It's been too long since we've all been together as a family." Molly said with a strain to her voice as she smiled at George and then at Charlie – the two of her sons who had most recently been unable to attend holiday meals. Hermione's eyes gleamed fondly for the older women; having Mrs. Weasley in her life was so important to the brunette and she had learned to especially cherish their relationship during the time it had been strained. "Well…I guess it's time to dig in," Molly chuckled and sat down. Platters, dishes, and serving spoons flew, literally, as everyone piled their plates with Mrs. Weasley's delightful feast.

"This looks incredible Mrs. Weasley,"

"Amazing work, Mum,"

"Pass the Yorkshire puddings,"

"Anyone need potatoes?"

"This is brilliant!"

The Weasley's dining room was alive with the noises of chatter, laughter, and clanging dishes. Hermione turned to Ron and Harry and Ginny: eagerly talking with them, catching up on what they had been doing, and sharing jokes over their meals. Often the twins and Angelina would join in their conversation. Soon, they were chatting energetically, laughing loudly, and eating more food than necessary. Hermione soon lost herself in the deliciousness of the meal and the delightfulness of her conversation with those nearest to her.

-o-O-o-

After dinner, Hermione lounged contentedly in the living room with the younger Weasleys. Her stomach was filled with Mrs. Weasley's delicious meal and her mind was overwhelmed with happiness. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still in the kitchen and Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and their families had already left. Charlie had to leave early the next morning for Romania and the others had young children who were already past their bedtimes. Harry had just returned from taking Teddy upstairs to sleep in Ron's old room. He joined Hermione on the smaller couch; they sat on either end while Ginny lay across them horizontally, her head in Hermione's lap and her legs draped over Harry's. Ron and George were both half-sitting, half-lying on the other. The coloured lights on the tree flashed sporadically. Although she felt sleepy, Hermione didn't want to leave the coziness of the Burrow for her own bed at her flat. She had exchanged her green sweater for a brand-new violet Weasley jumper that Mrs. Weasley had given her after dinner. It wasn't the first Weasley jumper that Hermione had ever received, but everyone one she was given delighted her. Nothing quite made her feel like part of the family as having the giant 'W' emblazoned across her chest. Looking around the room, Hermione speculated how odd she and her friends would have looked to an outsider: all were clad in various colours of the family sweater.

"That was lovely as always…" Hermione said to no one in particular. She rested her head against the arm of the couch and gently caressed Ginny's silky hair which had long ago escaped its braids.

"Mum's meals are always something else" – George murmured from the other side of the room, rubbing his stomach appreciatively. "They're the one thing I missed while I was off in Egypt. While other than you Ginny, obviously," He said with a smile and cast a teasing glance at Ron. Beside him, Ron groaned sluggishly, either not aware or not offended by George's joke. Sprawled out on the couch, Ron looked about ready to doze off.

"You'll be able to cook like that one day, right Gin," Harry said to his girlfriend's back.

"Hmph" – Ginny muttered, most of her voice obscured by Hermione's lap – "Unlikely. More like you'll be able to cook like that one day." Harry chuckled lazily at the girl's remark and so did Hermione. It was nice for her to simply relax and do nothing, surrounded by some of her favourite people. The young witches and wizards continued to rest and occasionally chat. All lacked the energy to actually engage in lively conversation. The silence hardly bothered Hermione. She felt more satisfied than she had for some time, partially from the food and the holiday, but mostly from the company.

After they had been lounging around for some time, Ginny eventually pushed herself up to a seated position.

"Er…time for me to go to bed. I can't keep my eyes open any longer." Ginny admitted. Hermione sighed and stretched her arms above her head.

"Yah, I ought to get back to my flat," She added, not pleased to leave the warmth of the Weasley home for her flat which she was sure would be frustratingly chilly.

"No, you can stay here, Mione," Ginny said groggily, leaning her head on Hermione's shoulder. "We have more than enough room."

"Really? Hmm…I might do that," Hermione contemplated. It had been a number of years since she had slept over at the Burrow. Ginny got up off the couch to leave and the rest followed suit. Hermione sluggishly wandered after Ginny to the room they used to occupy together. Procuring an old pair of flannel pants and an oversized tee shirt from her friend, Hermione climbed into her old bed. The bed felt comfortingly familiar and she was tired; soon she was asleep.

_Author's note: I hope everyone likes the names I picked out for the new Weasley twins. I went through several before I decided on those particular ones, but I thought they were quite lovely and suitably British. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Not mine! Sorry, very short, very filler chapter. _

Almost a week after Christmas, Hermione woke earlier than necessary. As with most good things, the rest and relaxation time that had been so welcomed at the start of her holiday was becoming excessive. By no means did she want to return to work, but she often found herself searching for ways to remain occupied throughout the day. She had quickly finished off much of her reading list, excitedly working her way through several classics and a couple Muggle books that her mother had recommended in a recent letter. Diagon Alley still had a layer of snow, so Hermione decided to explore the wizard shopping centre and enjoy the winter. She pulled her new violet Weasley jumper over her flimsy, white tee-shirt and slid her checkered wellingtons over the skinny legs of her jeans. The cold spell had subsided since Christmas and Hermione figured she'd be fine with just the jumper, but she did tug her ivory knit cap over her bushy hair and grabbed a matching pair of mittens.

The air was still cool, but Hermione wasn't uncomfortable in only her jumper. Diagon Alley was packed with wizard and witches: keenly shopping for last minutes deals, passing time in the clear day, or meeting up with friends. Students were in full force, picking up last-minute supplies before they returned to Hogwarts for the second half of the school year. Occasionally, acquaintances – past classmate or colleagues – would stop Hermione to chat, but for the most part she just walked in peace. As she had grown accustomed to, she noticed several parents pointing her out to their intrigued-looking children. Hermione was sure that they would be explaining her involvement in the final battle at Hogwarts. She knew that the defeat of Voldemort was taught in the History of Magic. She, Harry, and Ron had even each earned chapters in the subsequent revision of _Hogwarts: A History. _Hermione generally ignored such attention though, not wanting to call awareness to her celebrity.

When Hermione wandered past the Weasley twins' shop – the Weasley Wizard Wheezes – she immediately was overwhelmed by the amount of noise emanating from the building. The area surrounding the shop was filled with giggles, cheers, whirls, dings, bangs, pops, buzzes, and clangs, all coming from the store. Hermione smiled instinctively, imagining the joy that must be occurring on the inside. It had been some time since Hermione had visited the popular joke shop, so she decided to go in to explore and to see what possible changes had occurred since she had last been in the shop. Besides, there was always something magical about visiting the twins' store.

Hermione opened to door to the sound of chimes. The interior of the shop was an explosion of colour and an overload of images. There was a cloud of smoke rising in one corner that Hermione wasn't sure was intentional. Everywhere she looked, something interesting captured her attention. Despite the numerous exciting displays, the shelves were fairly sparse. Hermione noticed many young workers – all clad in the signature, bright magenta robes embroidered with the WWW crest – running frantically around the floor trying to restock the shelves. She figured that they were still trying to get resettled following the Christmas rush. Looking around, Hermione imagined that the Weasley Wizard Wheezes' employees would have to continue working hard for some time; the store was still crowded with customers. Students seemed desperate to exchange their Christmas money for the twin's prank products. Most were grinning mischievously at the prospective trouble they would cause with their purchases. It made Hermione glad that she was no longer a Head Girl at Hogwarts. Wizards and witches who were well past childhood and into their late teens and adult years were also gleefully pawing through the remaining Weasley's products. Hermione smiled; the twin's brand of humour certainly knew no age limits.

Walking through the shop, Hermione found herself grinning madly at the twin's products that were on display. She paused when a dancing teddy bear caught her attention. The miniature, pale yellow bear was doing pirouettes, summersaults, and ridiculous jumps and spins while surrounded by a soft, tinkling music. According to the label beside the bear, it was called the Dancing Butterbear; a name that Hermione had to admit wasn't the twin's finest idea. Hermione glanced at the wooding sign hanging above the aisle in which she was standing. "Weasley's Toys for Tots," the sigh read in loopy, bright orange italics. She hadn't been aware that the twins had extended their products to include toys for very young children. Sighing affectionately for her old friend, she realized that it must have been inspired by Fred having become a father.

"Granger!" – A loud voice startled her out of her concentration – "Oi, what you doing in the babies' section?" George said, peering around the corner of a shelf at her. He jogged down the aisle, stopping next to her. No matter what he was wearing, George always managed to look casually debonair. His dark, blue button down shirt, left open at the top to reveal his neck, and loose jeans proved no exception. His shaggy hair was messy and tousled, as if he had been running or standing outside in wind. The bright red locks stuck up in the back and curled over his forehead and around his good ear. Although it was disheveled, it suited him well. He smiled teasingly, his crooked grin bringing light to his angular features. "Is there something you're not telling us all, Mione?" He continued in a joking singsong.

"Er…no real reason…I was just exploring the whole store," Hermione stammered. She hadn't necessarily intended for her aimless wandering to bring her to the infant's section. It didn't really mean anything, she assured herself; it wasn't the result of any deep-seated, tacit desires. "What brings you here today? I thought you weren't working here anymore…" She asked.

"Yes, but Granger, I do own this store. I can come here whenever I feel like," He said, stuffing his hands into his jean's pockets. The slouched posture did not, Hermione noted despite her better judgment, lessen his attractiveness in the least. "I can take whatever I like too," George laughed, reaching over and grabbing a small item off the shelf. "Hmm…baby monitor," He read, glancing at the box-shaped item in his hand. "Seems this senses when your baby is about to cry and wakes you beforehand so that you can be prepared." Shaking his head ruefully, George placed the item back on the shelf. "Hmm…don't need that….honestly, what has my dear brother been getting up to while I've been away?"

"Seems to me as if he's been growing up, having kids, designing products that might actually help people," Hermione volunteered with a chuckle.

"Ugh," George pronounced with an over-exaggerated groan. "That's not what this store is all about. We're supposed to be helping people prank their instructors or disturb first-years, not help them raise their children." Although he had adopted a frustrated tone, Hermione could tell by the glimmer in George's eye and the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth that he spoke largely in jest.

"You know, I've been telling you all along that if you two applied your intelligence to useful things, you could really create some amazing stuff…maybe Fred has finally realized that…" Hermione teased speculatively.

"Oi, that's right, isn't it Granger," George laughed, pushing Hermione gently on her shoulder. "You almost stood in the way of this store ever happening." He smiled and continued in a ridiculously high-pitched, bossy tone: "Pranks aren't useful…stop testing product on first years…you should focus on your studies…I ought to give you detention."

"I never sounded like that," Hermione exclaimed with faked outrage, begrudgingly admitting that he wasn't entirely off with his impression. "If anything, I was always rather generous with what I allowed you two to get away with at school." She laughed and motioned as though she was going to hit George on the chest with a balled up fist. He chuckled and firmly grasped Hermione by her shoulders.

"Just taking the Mickey out of you, Mione…no hard feelings…." He grinned impishly and held his palms up in front of him. "Although…I should suggest to Fred that a nice touch to the store would be to have a large picture of you up on one wall…label it with something like: 'This girl thinks we're rubbish,' or something along those lines.." He said teasingly, hooking his front two fingers of both hands, forming quotations in the air.

"Very funny, Weasley" – Hermione rolled her eyes sardonically – "I don't think you're rubbish, and you know it."

"Well if you insist…" George grinned infectiously.

"You're a riot, Weasley," Hermione teased, peering through her eyelashes at George. "So, what actually brings you in here today?"

"Well…I was out, running some errands for the party tomorrow. Thought I'd come in and say hi to Fred, Lee, and the rest…"

"Oh yah, your party tomorrow…I can't believe I forgot about that…" Hermione smiled; she had remembered George's party. In fact, the day before she had spend considerable time trying on a number of her dresses, hoping to find one appropriate to wear.

"Don't even, Mione…I'm fully expecting you to show up."

"Don't worry, Weasley," Hermione laughed. "I'll do my best to show up,"

"You better be there, Mione,"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! PS. Regarding the names of the kids of other Weasley's: I just went with names I liked. I kept Victoire the same because I really like that name. Just a warning...this story almost entirely disregards the epilogue and most of what JK has said about the future of her characters [Some is the same [Harry/Ginny; Harry and Ron being Auror's…but I'm changing most. Obviously, because than Fred would be dead and Hermione/George wouldn't even be a possibility.] Hope that clarifies any questions/complaints!_

_Also, just a reminder…if you have any other questions, if I'm not making anything clear, or if there's anything you'd like me to address or include in my story, just let me know! _

"Mione! Mione!" Hermione rushed out of her bedroom upon hearing the voice in her living area. Radiating out of her large, brick fireplace, she noticed the slowly subsiding vibrant, green smoke and saw Holly stepping out of the grate and into her flat. Uncharacteristically, Holly was early. Several days after receiving the invitation to George's New Year's gathering, Hermione had sent Holly an owl, seeing if her friend wanted to accompany her to the party. Surprisingly, Holly had accepted the last-minute invitation.

"Ahh..you're here…you look awesome!" Hermione complimented her friend's silvery, sequined dress. Even with the narrow straps, on most women, the dress would be conservative. On the remarkably tall Holly, the skirt was strikingly short. However, New Year's, Hermione had to admit, was as good of an excuse as any to wear flashy outfits. Her own dress was also rather short and strapless.

"So do you! Granger! You look hot!" Holly shrieked excitedly. After some deliberation, Hermione had decided to wear a dress that she had bought for Angelina's Hen party and had never worn since. The dress boasted a tight white bodice, and a black, bell-shaped skirt, hemmed at Hermione's mid-thigh. The dress's fabric shimmered in a way that Hermione thought made it appropriately festive. When she had bought it, she had liked the way the dress's skirt started high on her waist and was cinched in by a wide elastic belt; she still figured that the style exceptionally flattered her.

"Thanks, Hol" – Hermione smiled gratefully, appreciating her friend's overabundant compliment – "Do you mind just sitting tight? I'm not quite ready."

"Of course. Sorry I'm early…I'm quite excited for this party," Holly's enthusiastic tone rendered her comment redundant. Hermione hurried to her room and quickly piled her slightly damp hair on the top of her head, securing it with pins in an intentionally-messy knot. She left several tendrils out, appreciating the way the loose curls framed her face. She applied a touch of mascara and looped a series of black and white beads around her neck. Sliding on her highest heeled shoes, a cherry-red pair of pumps, she raced back to her living area, to Holly who was lounging on the couch.

"Ready to go, Hol?"

"Almost, one sec, you need a final touch," Holly replied. "Pucker up,"

"Er, you're not going to snog me, are you?" Hermione asked, momentarily startled.

"No, sweetie. Although you look so gorgeous, I might." Holly laughed. Hermione complied with her friend's request, allowing Holly to apply some sort of lipstick on her mouth. When she was finished, Hermione glanced towards the oval mirror on her wall. Holly had painted her lips a bright, shining red. Hermione smiled; the colour really did compliment her colouring and her outfit and made her lips look plump and alluring. It was a detail that felt appropriate for the night.

"Ok, Mione. Now we're ready."

Holly eagerly climbed into Hermione's fireplace, stooping to fit into the grate. Hermione grinned and joined her friend. She called out their intended location and the pair instantly disappeared in a flash of green.

-o-O-o-

George had ensured that his fireplace was connected by the Floo powder network to the fireplaces of all his guests, so Hermione and Holly had no difficulties in arriving at his flat. Peering out of the hearth at the unfamiliar room, Hermione saw that it was filled predominantly with people she didn't recognize. She groaned; mixing and mingling was never her strongest skill. She hoped that coming wasn't a bad idea. There was nothing wrong with spending New Year's on her own. However, one glance at Holly made her feel immediately more comfortable with her decision to come to George's party: Holly was smiling lively and looked excited for the night.

"Come on, let's go, Mione!" Holly encouraged, taking Hermione by the hand and pulling her out of the fireplace. George's living room looked as though he had only recently started occupying the flat. There were still boxes stacked in the corner and the couches were merely pushed up against the stark-white walls rather than set up around the fireplace as one might expect. The only indication of his personality that George had added was a huge, bright red banner adorned with the Puddlemore United logo that was tacked up on one of the walls. Hermione smiled impulsively, finding humour in the fact that George had decided to host a party before he was completely settled. It seemed very much in line with his fun-loving personality.

Despite his lack of preparedness, it was obvious that – either from playing professional Quidditch or owning an extremely successful joke shop – that George was doing very well for himself. The main room of his flat was large and cavernous. Hermione figured that would have been able to fit her entire flat into his living room at least three times. The room boasted luxurious, dark oak, hardwood floors and Hermione noticed that the couches against the wall were all of fine, burgundy leather. A substantial chandelier hung in the centre of the high ceiling. It appeared to be made of bronze and consisted of an intricate pattern of delicate, white candles.

"Hmm…should we go find George?" Hermione asked, closing her mouth that had fallen agape at the sight of the abode.

"Yah, ok," – Holly offered absentmindedly – "Say, Mione, have you ever considered scooping up George? This place is incredible."

"No, I have not," Hermione laughed. "Let's go look for George," She and Holly wandered past groups of guests. Hermione thought she may have recognized a few of the young men as members from George's team who she had seen at the Leaky Cauldron, but she wasn't positive. They passed through the living room and into an adjacent kitchen. The kitchen was also substantial in size and quite elegant. The countertops were a dark blue, marble pattern and the floor was finely tiled. More importantly, to Hermione, it was filled with familiar faces.

"Mione!" Ginny exclaimed, rushing over to greet her friend with an energetic hug. Ginny was dressed in a vibrant pink, party dress. The colour should have looked horrible next to her bright red hair, but the petite girl pulled it off with a lively smile and aplomb.

"Gin!" Hermione echoed her friend's welcome.

"Hey Mione," George said from his spot next to the counter where he was slicing limes. Hermione waved to George who dried off his hands with a checkered towel and strode over to the girls. "You're looking awfully gorgeous, love," He complemented, reaching down to give Hermione a quick embrace.

"Er, thanks, George. You look very nice, yourself." Hermione replied. He did. George was wearing dark slacks with a matching jacket over a royal blue dress shirt. The blue in the shirt accentuated the blue of his eyes in an undeniably attractive way, making them look deep and vivid. George had even put on an ivory tie for the occasion. While getting ready, Hermione hadn't been sure how formal his party was going to be and she felt relieved that she had opted for her shimmering cocktail dress rather than something more casual. Despite his fancy outfit though, George's hair still looked tousled and relaxed. "Thanks for having us," Hermione added, ceasing her admiring of her host. "Ah…your place is fantastic."

"Oh, thanks. Would you care for a bit of a tour?" He shrugged humbly. "I was just about to take these guys," George said, gesturing to the others in the kitchen. Hermione nodded a quick hello to Harry and to Ron. Ron was standing next to Lavender Brown. Hermione felt momentarily confused; she hadn't been aware that Lavender and Ron had maintained correspondence since leaving Hogwarts.

"Sure, that would be great, George…hey, you remember Holly, right?" She chided herself for forgetting to introduce her friend. George and Holly shook hands quickly and exchanged greetings. Hermione and her friends followed George out the kitchen and down a hall, also with sterile white walls.

"Er, this is the den…I guess." George pointed into a slightly smaller room than his living room. It was completely bare accept for a large, brick fireplace. "Ah...there's a dining room down the hall…bathroom, bedroom…that's not exciting."

"None of us want to see your bedroom, George," Ginny teased, walking beside her older brother. Hermione noticed a flight of stairs, so steep they were almost a ladder, at the end of the hall.

"Do you have an upstairs, George?" She questioned incredulously, shocked that any of her peers would be able to live in a place so impressive.

"Oh, no…not at all" – George laughed – "Those lead to the roof." He stopped walking. "And you've already seen the living room….so, that's about it," He lamely concluded. Hermione fought a chuckle. It was probably the worst home tour she'd ever been on.

"How long have you lived here, George?" She asked from down the hall.

"Just two weeks," He looked over his shoulder and replied. "I really ought to get settled…I just haven't gotten around to it." Based on his crooked smiled, Hermione assumed that nesting wasn't much of a priority for George. The tour had wrapped around back to the kitchen, so the group of young witches and wizards stood around an island counter in the middle of the kitchen and started to make easygoing conversation.

-o-O-o-

"Hey, Mione…You remember Lavender…right?" Ron asked shyly, motioning between Hermione and the young woman who was standing tightly next to him.

"Oh yah, of course," Hermione said, nodding in recognition at the other woman.

"Hey, how's it going?" Lavender replied politely.

"I'm fine you look lovely, Lavender." Hermione said, complimenting her former classmate's striking royal blue dress. The colour matched her honey blonde curls and was surprisingly subdued for her normally outgoing personality.

"Thanks, you two," The two young woman paused, unsure whether to continue in conversation.

"Lavender and I ran into each other the other week at Seamus' party….we hadn't seen each other in years…not since…" Ron added. Hermione wasn't surprised that he had stopped before mentioning the battle at Hogwarts. It wasn't an event they liked to discuss, especially not during enjoyable occasions.

"That's lovely," Hermione replied absentmindedly. She hadn't been invited to Seamus' party. Ron's explanation failed to answer Hermione's real questions. Hermione wasn't sure of the nature of his relationship with their former classmate. They weren't holding hands, nor did they have their arms around each other, but were standing closer than one might expect from mere acquaintances. Ron hadn't mentioned at Christmas whether or not he was seeing anyone. Of course, Hermione recalled, that could be because she and Lavender had never been close at Hogwarts. During their sixth-year they had even had the hint of a rivalry over Ron's affections. Hermione figured that it was best not to ask Ron for clarification directly in front of Lavender incase their relationship status was still ambiguous.

"Hey…I hope you don't mind…we brought champagne," Holly turned to George and motioned to the bottle she had been carrying. "Do you have any glasses or anything?"

"Ahh…" George hesitated, "I haven't really picked all that up yet. What I do have is on the table." He pointed at a sturdy, dark brown table that was covered with tumblers, mugs, tea cups, an Erlenmeyer flask, several jars, and a few mismatched wineglasses.

"Here, Mione," Holly had wandered over to the table and picked out two of the wineglasses. She filled both almost to the brim with the bubbly beverage and handed one to Hermione.

"Hmm…hey…where are Fred and Ang?" Hermione asked George, who was standing across the counter from her, after taking a quick sip of her champagne. While, she wasn't generally fond of alcohol, she had to admit that the sweet drink was appealing.

"Oh" – George grimaced slightly – "They have to get the twins settled with Ang's folks. When I spoke to Fred earlier he said they might be late. And they won't be able to stay until midnight either." His tone was jovial, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder how George was adjusting to having his best friend and twin become a father. She imagined that Fred was no longer able to participate in their old antics, now that he had the responsibility of his infant twins. Hermione figured that it must have been difficult for George to return from Egypt only to have his relationship with Fred be necessarily different.

"Well…I'll look forward to them," Hermione offered. "Ang is always a laugh." She thought back to Angelina's Hen party before the wedding and how much fun she and Ginny had engaging in revelry with the older girl and her friends.

"Yah, I hope they make it," George said, not sounding completely convinced that they would. At that moment, a group that Hermione did recognize as George's Quidditch teammates, including Oliver Wood, wandered into the kitchen.

"Weasley!" The all yelled out in low, loud voices at the sight of George. George welcomed his teammates with energetic hand slaps and pats on the back. Figuring that his team wanted a bit of George's time, Hermione turned to her other friends. Holly – she observed with a wry smile – had already introduced herself to Oliver and the pair was chatting affably.

Hermione turned to the rest of her group to join them in conversation. As they talked, Hermione couldn't help but notice the way that Ginny was draped over Harry, who was dressed smartly in his best grey suit. She smiled while listening to Harry and Ron discuss their work; Harry and Ginny always were a couple that made her feel better about the state of love in the world. Hermione was so absorbed in the talk that she barely noticed when Holly reached over her shoulder to refill her now-empty wineglass with another healthy serving of their champagne.

"Want to check out the living room? See what else is going on here?" Holly asked, tapping Hermione gently on the shoulder. Hermione would have been content to stay and talk with her closest friends, but the glass of champagne made her feel adventurous and made exploring the rest of the party sound appealing. Saying farewell to her friends, she and Holly left the kitchen, Hermione walking very carefully to prevent falling in her cherry-red pumps or spilling her drink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

_Author's note: Thanks for reading! _

As Hermione and Holly entered the living room, Hermione couldn't help but notice that the rest of the guests at George's New Year's party seemed significantly more rambunctious than the small group that had been occupying the kitchen. Most were talking quite loudly and all had drinks – in whatever sort of containers they had been able to procure from George's kitchen – in their hands. Hermione noticed many conspicuous red-faces in the crowd as well as several party guests who were swaying in spot.

"Mione! Let's sit here," Holly grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her down onto an empty couch that had been pushed beside a wall. Hermione fell into the couch, nimbly managing to steady her wine glass, preventing any of her drink from spilling. Hermione sighed as she sunk into the soft, leather couch; she hadn't been aware of how much she wanted to get off her lofty shoes until she had sat down. "Mione, I have a problem," Holly whined once they were seated.

"What's that Hol?" Hermione asked with concern in her voice.

"I can't decide who I like more, Matty or Oliver?" She said contemplatively in reference to George's two Quidditch teammates.

"What? Why does that matter? Do you have to decide right now?" Hermione asked, tucking her legs underneath herself, smoothing out her skirt to ensure that she was still covered.

"Well…I have to decide so I know who to have my New Year's kiss with," Holly informed her matter-of-factly.

"What?" Hermione uttered. Holly's statement confused her on many levels.

"New Year's kiss…You have to kiss someone at midnight on New Year's" Holly explained, alleviating none of Hermione's confusion. "And that's going to be soon."

"Hmm…ok…" Hermione replied, unconvinced. "Well, who did you enjoy talking to more?"

"Well I was pretty pissed when I talked to Matty…but I like how tall he is…but I've been in love with Oliver for a long time…" Holly speculated aloud.

"Is Matty even here?" Hermione asked, hoping to find an easy solution to Holly's odd problem.

"Yah, he's over there," Holly pointed to a group of young men who had entered the living room, including Oliver and Matty. All the young men, Hermione assumed, were from George's Quidditch team. She easily spotted George standing in the middle of the group, drinking a large amount of Butterbeer out of the Erlenmeyer flask. His ivory tie was loosened and it hung lackadaisically around his neck and his hair was even messier than earlier, as if he had been running his hand through it most of the evening. Also, since she had last seen him, he had ditched his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his toned forearms. Hermione wasn't surprised; George's flat was exceptionally warm, being filled with so many people.

"Wow…You sure you don't fancy that one, Mione?" Holly asked with a smile, nodding towards George. "He certainly is fit." Hermione self-consciously wondered if her friend had been privy to the way she had been checking him out.

"Hmmm…" Hermione murmured absentmindedly, not providing her friend with a substantial answer. "He's just an old friend," She reiterated.

"Ok," Holly replied. "So…any solutions for me on this Matty and Oliver situation?"

"Ah…just follow your heart…" Hermione contributed lamely. Fortunately, Holly didn't want to pursue the conversation any further. Someone had evidently found George's sound system, as upbeat music had suddenly filled the living room. Hermione glanced to the centre of the room, smiling when she noticed that some of the guests had decided to take advantage of the music, the smoothness of the hardwood floor, and the lack of clutter in George's flat. They were up swaying and moving to the music, all still holding a drink in one hand.

"Come on, let's dance Mione," Holly exclaimed, taking hold of Hermione's free hand and pulling her to standing.

"Er…ok," Dancing was never something that came easy to Hermione, but none on the makeshift dance floor looked particularly talented so she had no reason to feel intimidated. Following Holly's lead, Hermione bounced gently in place to the music, occasionally adding a hand flourish or half-twirl. She was sure she looked ridiculous, but the music was infectious, Holly's joy was palpable, and the champagne was starting to go to her head. Occasionally, Holly would take hold of Hermione's free hand to send Hermione into a spin, inducing laughter from both girls. Hermione tried to do the same with her friend, but the other woman was too tall. Her inhibitions fading, Hermione started moving more vigorously, smiling joyously as she did, finding enjoyment in moving around rhythmically with her friend as the upbeat music continued.

"Ah, may I have this dance?" Oliver Wood interrupted the girls' dance, offering his hand to Holly. Holly looked to Hermione for assent and Hermione nodded for her friend to go with the Quidditch player.

"See you around, Mione," Holly called out while Oliver whisked her into a spin. Hermione stood alone on the dance floor momentarily, unsure of her next move. Deciding not to continue standing idly amongst the spinning bodies, she ambled into the kitchen, hoping to locate Harry, Ginny, and Ron. The kitchen was filled with people Hermione didn't know. It seemed as if the number of guests had grown exponentially while she had been on the dance floor. It was fortunate that George's flat was so spacious, as he seemed to know many people. Seeing none of her friends, Hermione continued through George's flat. There were people in George's den and dining room, but none of them were Harry, Ginny, or Ron. Hermione wondered if her pals had already left. It struck her as odd that they would go without saying goodbye, but they didn't seem to be anywhere in George's. She retraced her steps to the living room, wondering if she had merely overlooked their presence earlier. The improvised dance floor was more crowded than it had been before. Hermione scoured the sea of dancers, searching for Ginny's hot pink dress, but not finding it.

She contemplated just leaving as none of her friends seemed to be available. Celebrating the stroke of midnight had never struck Hermione as being particularly important, and even if it was, she wouldn't want to celebrate it alone. Wandering down George's hall, one last time, in case her friends happened to show up, she saw George waving at her from the base of his steep steps.

"Hey Mione, how's it going?" He asked jovially, taking a large drink of Butterbeer out of his Erlenmeyer flask.

"Er, yah…It's alright. I can't find anyone though…do you think they've all left?" Hermione held out her arms and shrugged her shoulders in confusion.

"Maybe…Oh well…their loss" George laughed. "I'm going up on the roof for midnight. Come with me!" He said eagerly, holding out his free hand as if he expected Hermione to take hold of it. Hermione eyed the steep stairs ruefully. She knew that trying to climb them in her short dress and lofty shoes might not be the most prudent decision, but decided to follow George regardless. The prospect of the roof intrigued her. Motioning for George to ascend the steps, Hermione followed behind him. Opting to hold her free hand – the one not encumbered with her wineglass – behind her legs to prevent her skirt from flying up rather than grabbing onto the stair's railing, Hermione walked very delicately to avoid tumbling over on her towering heels. The moment they emerged onto the roof and into the fresh crisp air, Hermione took several deep, satisfied breaths. She hadn't been aware of how stuffy the flat had been or how sweaty she had gotten from dancing.

"Are you having a good time, Mione?" George asked as they found room on the roof's surface. "It's brilliant that you made it," he added before she could respond to his question.

"Yah…it was so lovely for you to have us all over, George." She smiled in return. A number of other guests had claimed spots on the roof, including a group of George's teammates who were off to the side, smoking cigars. Several couples were lining the edges, all in affectionate embraces. Hermione glanced over the railing they were standing next to, the sight shocking her with its beauty. Coming directly into his flat through the fireplace, Hermione hadn't been aware that they were so high off the ground. From their vantage point, she could see the familiar lights of London and beyond. She thought she could make out the miniscule image of Big Ben. The hands of the clock both appeared to be approaching a vertical positing, indicating that midnight was nigh. Glancing up, she noticed that the stars were in full force on the clear night. There was something perfect, Hermione thought, about being outside in the middle of the night in the midst of winter.

"I honestly did very little work to get ready for this," George grinned rakishly, pulling Hermione's attention away from their surroundings. "But don't tell anyone that. I figure throwing this party will earn me goodwill for some time."

"You're secret is safe with me," Hermione chuckled and tapped her half-filled wineglass against George's Erlenmeyer flask.

"Good to know. You always were a reliable one, Mione" He said fondly.

"Hey, did Fred ever show up?" Hermione asked and George shook his head regretfully.

"No, he sent me a quick note. They were having trouble getting the twin's down to bed, so he and Ang thought it best they stay with them."

"Oh, I'm sorry, George,"

"Meh, it's not a big problem. I get it," George shrugged. "Ethan and Soph are pretty important. I don't mind coming in second place to those two." He smiled lovingly at his own mention of his newborn niece and nephew.

"They're pretty bril-" Hermione's comment was interrupted by muffled shouts.

"Ten – nine – eight," A barely audible chorus of chants echoed from inside George's flat through the entrance leading onto the roof.

"Oh it's the countdown!" Hermione exclaimed while the crowd atop the roof erupted into cheers.

"Seven – six," The guests on the rooftop managed to fall into pace with the yells from the inside. Hermione joined in, her voice drowned out by the noise of the others. "Five – four." She glanced at George and saw that he was yelling as well, raising his flask into the air in celebration. His smile was wide and his face was slightly red, either from the cold or the beverages.

"Three – two," Hermione smiled and looked out over London, finding herself surprisingly excited to usher in the New Year.

"One," The countdown finished and noise exploded around Hermione. She couldn't distinguish between what was created by the rooftop guests, what came from the flat, and what was rising up from the streets of London.

"Happy New Year's, George," Hermione turned and reached up with her free arm to give her companion a quick hug.

"Happy New Year's to you too, Mione," He whispered, his voice oddly husky. George bent down and returned Hermione's hug. When his arms encircled her waist, his beverage rested against her back and Hermione shivered as the cold of the drink reached her skin through her dress's fabric. "Thanks for coming," His voice was definitely raspy and his lips tickled Hermione's neck when he spoke. He turned his head and slowly brought it up, gently brushing Hermione's cheek with his. Hermione felt a tingle radiate through her skin where it had been touched by George's. She released her grasp of the back of George's neck, assuming that he was breaking their hug. It seemed, momentarily, as if he was, but he paused, his nose hovering just above Hermione's. "I'm so glad you're here," He said, even quieter than before.

With his free hand, George reached up and tenderly stroked Hermione's chin before cupping it in his hand. She noticed a peculiar gleam in the intense blue of his eyes. While she was still searching his deep eyes, George gently pressed his lips against hers. Hermione's eyelids flew open and her eyebrows almost skimmed her hairline. His mouth lingered briefly on her slightly-parted lips. The moment only lasted several seconds, but to Hermione it felt much longer. She lost awareness of the others on the balcony and of the night surrounding them. His lips were chapped yet still tender. Hermione resisted the urge to close her eyes, reciprocate the kiss, or burry her free hand in his shaggy hair: not wanting to treat the moment as more romantic than warranted. Her arm merely continued to float above George's neck while she tightly clasped her wineglass in her other hand, concerned that her shaking hand might not be able to maintain its grip. Slowly, George lifted his head, breaking their contact.

"I'm glad I came too, George," Hermione spoke hastily. The night or the champagne was clouding her judgment and she couldn't tell if he had intended a quick, friendly peck or something more. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was reading unnecessarily into his gesture. Over the edge of the railing she saw fireworks going off from the Thames River. She focused on the flashing blues, reds, greens, yellows, and purples alighting above George's shoulder, worried about what would happen to her legs if she stared into George's brilliant, blue eyes.

"You're welcome here whenever, Mione," George said softly with a crooked smile.

"Weasley!" A chorus of hollers from George's teammates rushed Hermione back into reality. "Get over here, mate,"

"Er," George hesitated, looking at Hermione apologetically. "Do you mind?" He asked with a shrug towards his teammates. Hermione nodded and watched George stride towards the group of young men to accept their drunken hugs and high fives. Hermione rested her elbows on the railing and tried to admire the view. The fireworks were still exploding. They were nothing spectacular when compared to the magical nature of wizard-created fireworks, but the bright colours were mesmerizing and many of the patterns were pretty. She sighed and sipped the last of her champagne, unsure of what to make of the night.

_Author's note: I have a very limited understanding of London. I apologize if I muddled its geography…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

_Author's note: Thanks for reading!_

The following morning, Hermione woke up, still puzzled by hers and George's interaction at the stroke of New Year's. Sitting up in her bed with her lavender duvet pulled tightly around her_, _Hermione's mind drifted back to the previous night. After George had left her standing at the railing, she had quickly returned to his living room. On her way to the stairs, George had stopped her and hugged her goodbye and thanked her again for coming to his party, but neither attempted a recreation of their kiss. A quick survey of George's flat told Hermione that Harry, Ron, and Ginny must have already left, as they were nowhere to be found. Shuffling through the living room, Hermione thought she might be able to locate Holly. Holly, she knew, would have sage and frank advice regarding her incident with George. Glancing around the living room, Hermione easily spotted her friend. Holly had claimed a couch that was tucked against the wall. She and Oliver were monopolizing the couch, snogging very furiously and very publically on it. Hermione laughed despite her own concerns, glad that Holly had found a solution to her earlier dilemma.

Hermione oscillated several times regarding what the kiss had meant. For the most part, she concluded that it was merely a chaste kiss between friends; the type that was expected at midnight on New Year's Eve. A part of her, however, fixated the odd shimmer in George's eye and she wondered whether that, perhaps, it had meant something more. Hermione recalled the way that George had lingered his lips on hers a trifle longer and a bit harder than one would in a familiar peck. She placed two fingers against her lips. She could still feel George's mouth on hers.

A sharp tap on her window pulled Hermione out of her daydream. Gilbert, her owl, was bouncing on the ledge and furiously banging his beak on the window pane. Hermione crawled out of bed and opened the window to let him into her bedroom. The letter tied to his leg was not surprisingly addressed to her in Ginny's familiar printing. Hermione eagerly removed the letter and unsealed it, hoping to gain information as to Ginny's disappearance the previous night.

"Mione. I have the day off today. Are you free to get together?" It simply read. Hermione turned to letter over to jot down a brief acquiescence. Suggesting a time and a meeting place, she reattached the note to Gilbert's leg and sent him on his way.

-o-O-o-

As her meeting time with Ginny neared, Hermione pulled her newest favourite sweater – her violet Weasley jumper – over her pale blue tank top and jeans. Without intending to, she found herself thinking about George. "Pull it together, Mione," She muttered in a barely audible voice. On her way out to her front door, she snatched her beaded bag off the back of her couch and rummaged in it until she located her notepad. "_Don't unnecessarily read into situations." _She hastily wrote in her neat printing on the finely lined page. Stuffing the notepad back into the bag, she looped the bag's strap over her shoulder and hurried out her building and out onto Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was quieter than the last time Hermione had walked through the shopping area as many of the shops were closed in recognition of New Year's Day. She made a direct beeline to the quaint café she had suggested to Ginny and claimed a small circular table next to the large, bay window at the front. After only completing several pages of the book she had stowed in her bag incase Ginny wasn't able to make the suggested time, her concentration was broken when Ginny sat in the available seat at Hermione's table.

"Hey, you made it!" Hermione exclaimed, sliding her bookmark between the necessary pages and packing the book away in her bag.

"Of course I did," Ginny grinned. "So how was the rest of last night? Did you stay to ring in midnight?"

"Er…yah…it was fine…uneventful….just watched the fireworks over the Thames," Normally, Hermione would eagerly discuss any potential guy problems with Ginny, but she didn't feel comfortable with bringing up Ginny's older brother. Besides, she was sure that all her concerns about what had happed with George were merely speculative. "What happened to you though? I couldn't find you, Harry, or Ron most of the night."

"Well…I don't know about Ron" – Ginny grinned cheekily – "But I can tell you why Harry and I left."

"Oh and why's that?" Hermione asked. Ginny didn't say anything. Instead, she mysteriously lifted her left hand out of her lap and placed it on the surface of the table in front of Hermione. The diamond on her finger was immediately obvious.

"Oh sweet Merlin," Hermione shrieked so loudly that the other patrons in the sparsely populated café turned to look at the pair. She excitedly grabbed Ginny's hand to get a closer look at the gem. Ginny's ring consisted of a large, circular diamond surrounded by a wreath of smaller ones. The impressive centre diamond was stunning on the young woman's slender finger. It was perfectly clear and a crystal white. "Oh, Ginny…this is incredible." Hermione breathed, aware of the tears prickling behind her eyes. "Tell me everything."

"Well…Harry told me that we had to leave and that it was important. Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about or where we had to go," Ginny rushed, a large smile, dazzling enough to overshadow the ring, decorating her face. "So at this point I'm super confused," Ginny continued excitedly. "So he takes me directly to Number Twelve Grimmauld place and it's amazing, Hermione…like you wouldn't believe…flowers everywhere…roses, lilies…candles…all these little, white, tea light candles set up all around the living room. He must have spent so much time getting it ready. And then he asked me to be his wife." Ginny spoke wistfully and stared lovingly down at her ring. Hermione understood that there were parts of the story that were only for her and Harry to share so she didn't ask for more details.

"Ginny…that's just incredible. I'm so happy for you too,"

"Thanks Mione. I'm so excited."

"Do you have a date picked out?" Hermione asked eagerly, realizing that she now had the wedding of two of her best friends to look forward to.

"We're thinking sometime in the summer. Maybe around Harry's birthday," Ginny shrugged. "We haven't really discussed that yet. You'll be Maid of Honour, right. Please, say you will…I'd be devastated if you didn't…" Ginny gave Hermione a beseeching glance.

"Obviously!" Hermione declared incredulously, shocked that her friend may have even considered that she'd turn down the offer. "I'd love to."

"That's brilliant. I can't wait until we can get started on the wedding preparations," Ginny squealed, delightedly clasping her hands in front of her, displaying her extraordinary ring at the same time.

"Oh, I'd love to help," Hermione echoed Ginny's high pitched tone. "When are you going to get started on that?"

"Yah, I don't know that either. But we are having an engagement party at the Burrow in a bit. Mum's already started planning it. I guess Harry told her and Dad about the proposal before he told me."

"Oh that sounds great."

"Yah, it will just be pretty low key…mainly family…a few friends maybe."

"Oh yah," Hermione said, sounding interested. "So you're whole family will be there? Ron…Fred…George?"

"Ah, yah, they're part of my family, Mione…they'll be there."

"Oh that's great" – Hermione replied quickly, worried that she may have needlessly lingered George's name – "I'll be there too,"

"Of course you will,"

The two friends continued chatting until they realized that they were likely overstaying their welcome in the café. Most of the conversation consisted of Ginny describing how much she loved her ring and her proposal and what sort of details she was hoping her wedding would consist. Hermione was more than happy to listen and ask for clarification at times. Her smile was constant as she excitedly thought of the glorious wedding that would occur between two of her dearest friends during the upcoming summer. It was, Hermione was sure, the perfect start to a new year.

-o-O-o-

"Hermione, do you have a moment?" During the morning of her first day back at work, Hermione's editing was interrupted by a soft rap on her door. Glancing up she noticed her colleague, Klara Suzuki, standing in the doorway.

"Er…sure, of course, Klara. Come in, have a seat." Hermione motioned to the stool that stood on the other side of her desk. "How was your vacation?" She asked.

"Oh it was fabulous," Klara replied brightly as she folded her deep plum skirt underneath her and perched carefully on the stool. "Ah, I want to talk with you about something…do you have time? It's a wee bit sensitive."

"Ah, yah, what is it?" Hermione asked anxiously. Klara was her supervisor and did have the power to reprimand Hermione. Hermione suddenly worried about the state of her work.

"Er, well…this was on my desk when I came back to work today." Klara produced a file-folder from her oversized, dark brown, leather purse and placed it on Hermione's desk. She opened it and passed the contents – a thick stack of parchment – to Hermione. Glancing at the title page, Hermione read aloud the fancy calligraphy that adorned the parchment:

"_An Act Pertaining to the Care and Control of Non-Human Magical Creatures: House Elves._" She read quizzically. "What exactly is this Klara?"

"Well…I guess before the holiday, this legislation was drafted. I'm afraid it's not very progressive in regards to the treatment of House Elves…" She looked at Hermione with concern radiating from her almond-shaped eyes. "I know this is an important issue to you Hermione. I wanted you to have a chance to see it before it becomes a law."

"Er…thanks…" Hermione murmured. She was worried about the implications that the legislation might have for House Elves – an issue that she had cared about since she was in school – but was also touched that Klara had recalled how important the matter was to her. It had been a long time since Hermione had discussed her feelings about House Elves with her co-workers and hadn't even been aware that Klara had been listening that closely to what she had said. "Ah…what exactly would this mean…if it becomes law?"

"Well…it basically ensures that House Elves will have a slave-like status…and it will make it a near impossibility to bring about any sort of reform anytime soon."

"Oh that's not good."

"I didn't think you'd like it…"

"I don't get it" – Hermione muttered – "I thought this kind of law was no longer supported. I would have expected more from Minister Shacklebolt," She said, referring to the current Minister of Magic, former Order of the Phoenix member, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Ah, I doubt Minister Shackebolt would have seen this yet," Klara speculated.

"Hmm" – Hermione said, thinking aloud more than actually addressing her companion – "Will this even get voted by the Ministers to become a law?" Hermione asked. The proposed legislation would only become a law if enough of the Ministers voted in favour of establishing it as law.

"I wouldn't be surprised…Hermoine…there's a lot in power who still have very old-fashioned views on this sort of thing…not a lot of people will be caring about the House Elves' situation…they'll just be thinking about who's going to do their laundry and prepare their meals…"

"Hey Klara?" – Hermione asked apprehensively after some deliberation – "Would it be alright if I copied this? So I could have a closer look later?"

"Well…" Klara hesitated. "That's not exactly protocol." She was right. The Ministry had very strict rules regarding what the employees could do with the proposed legislation with which they worked. Reproducing it and removing it from the Ministry of Magic building definitely fell well outside of what was considered appropriate. "So you have to be very careful. Don't tell anyone and, if you get caught, I had nothing to do with this." Klara spoke slowly and adamantly, but a determined smile was on her lips.

"You're amazing Klara," Hermione whistled appreciatively. She dug a stack of blank parchment out of her largest desk drawer. After tapping her wand on the proposed legislation, she immediately pressed her wand against the blank parchment. Slowly, ink spread from the tip of her wand, working its way in tiny droplets across the blank pieces of parchment. Gradually, the black ink adopted the same pattern that had been on the originals. Once it was done, Hermione leafed through the second stack of parchment, pleased to see that the text and been perfectly reproduced. She slipped her copy into an empty file folder and stowed it in her beaded bag. She knew that her colleague had already done her a significant favour, but she turned to Klara with another request.

"Ah…Klara…" Hermione feebly questioned. "I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think you'd be able to delay this for a bit. I need to do some more research and stuff…it's really important." Hermione smiled beseechingly, unsure if Klara would be willing to undermine the mechanisms of the government for the sake of her own pet project, even if only in a passive manner. The plight of House Elves was – as she had learnt during her fifth year – hardly a cause that was important to most people.

"A filibuster!" Klara exclaimed, a flash of excitement in her deep brown eyes. Her friend's love of the political process never failed to both perplex and impress Hermione. Klara, however, always found entertainment in the workings of the Government. Hermione was sure that her colleague would continue to work her way up through the Ministry and wouldn't be surprised if she was one day the Minister of Magic. "I can do that for you." Klara leaned across the desk and lowered her voice to a faint whisper. "And Hermione, I agree with you on your views on House Elves…I think that stuff like this" – Klara continued, her voice soft but her tone was forceful as she violently jabbed the offending document with a slender forefinger – "I think it's just rubbish. If you need any help…an extra set of eyes or anything…let me know. I'm more than happy to get involved." Hermione didn't get a chance to reply, but she smiled gratefully while her friend continued. "I have to get back to work…but I'll see you around."

-o-O-o-

Hermione rushed home, eager to read the legislative draft she had obtained earlier. Forgoing her usual hot beverage and without changing out of her work slacks, Hermione collapsed onto her couch and pulled the file out of her beaded bag. She opened it across her lap and started reading the parchment hastily, concerned about what she would find in its contents. The proposed legislation was as alarming as Klara had indicated. Hermione shuddered as she read; the document demonstrated a complete lack of respect for House Elves and no concern about improving their conditions. Admittedly, if the Act was to become law it wouldn't necessarily change the status quo. House Elves were already treated with the same prejudices as displayed by the proposed Act. The law wouldn't alter that House Elves would receive freedom if they were given an article of clothing; that rule was based on a magic that Ministry decrees had no power over. The main problem with the Act, Hermione immediately saw, was that it would limit the possibility of House Elves' treatment approving in the future. Klara was right; the Act would make any reform a near impossibility. For that reason, Hermione was determined that the proposed Act could not become law.

Hermione stayed up late, scouring the writing on the parchment, hoping to find a loophole. She regretfully noted that there were few mistakes in the text, meaning that it would be harder for Klara to delay the editing process. She knew that if she was to find away to combat the Act, she'd have to do it soon. During her third read through of the fifty-seven page document, Hermione finally had to lay it on her coffee table, knowing that if she didn't get some sleep, she would struggle to function the following day.

_Author's note: I know that Hermione's House Elves campaign and SPEW is a part of the books that a lot of people don't like, but I always liked the way she had something that she believed in so much. Don't worry, it's not going to be a major part of this story and hopefully I'll be able to write this story line without it being insufferable...Thanks to my very clever friend __**Butterfliesflyaway123**__ for helping me with the way a government might work [I couldn't find any info on how the Ministry of Magic works, so most is just made up] I hope the way I've written the government parts makes sense…_

_Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my big sister, __**cutiemcqueen86**__!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten **

_Author's Note: Ginny and Harry's engagement party was originally going to be one chapter. Now it looks like it will be two. For some reason once I start describing something I just want to keep going [same thing happened with the New Year's Party]…Don't worry: I swear this story is going somewhere! It's just taking a bit longer than I anticipated…Thanks for everyone who's still reading! I really liked writing these chapters and I hope you enjoy reading them! _

_Also, I wrote a very short story about Harry's proposal if you're interested in checking that out! _

The day of Ginny and Harry's engagement party approached rapidly. Hermione awoke, feeling more relieved about not having to go to work than excited for the party in the evening. Since she had received the proposed _Act Pertaining to the Care and Control of Non-Human Magical Creatures: House Elves_ from Klara, her evenings had been filled with carefully reading and rereading the Act and working through books that she would get from the Ministry of Magic library during her lunch break. Often she would stay up much later than she should with the project, going to bed well past an appropriate hour. Unfortunately, her progress was limited. She didn't know how to prove that the law was unjust towards House Elves or detrimental to the Wizarding community. House Elves were notoriously unwilling to talk about their situations and most of the literature on the matter that Hermione had found was in favour of maintaining the status quo. Even if she was able to construct an unbeatable argument against the law, she wasn't sure what she would do with it. It wasn't as if she could march into the office of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and demand change.

Knowing that she couldn't show up at Harry and Ginny's party feeling discouraged, Hermione decided that taking a break from the frustrating work would be important. She spent the day leading up to the party wandering around Diagon Alley, browsing through shops: anything that might get her mind off the legislation. In the afternoon she returned to her flat, ready to get prepared for Harry and Ginny's party, feeling less frustrated about the House Elf situation than she had in over a week. Hermione knew that the problem would still be there waiting for her when the party was over, but she also knew that there was nothing wrong with relaxing for the evening and enjoying the celebration of the engagement of two of her best friends and favourite people.

Hermione slipped on the dress she had chosen for the engagement party. The bias style, she knew, suited her well and she liked the simplistic cut of the sweetheart neckline. The dress was held up with tiny, delicate straps, which appeared flimsy enough to break with only a light snap. The bodice fit her torso snugly and the lightweight fabric skimmed her hips, accentuating the gentle curve of Hermione's waist. The skirt flared out around her thighs, stopping just above her knees in a slightly scalloped hem. Most of the mystery and the daring of the dress were found in the back; a part of the gown that Hermione had particularly admired. The line of the dress came to a low point just barely above the small of her back, leaving her shoulder blades and most of her back largely exposed. Standing in her room in front of her full length mirror, Hermione quickly sashayed her hips, smiling at the way the dress twirled freely around her legs. Ginny had warned her that there would be a lot of dancing at the party and it pleased Hermione to know that her dress would look sufficiently fanciful on the dance floor. Her favourite aspect of her dress, however, was not its structure, movement, or backless style, but the colour; the vibrant, jewel-toned green reminded her of Harry's distinct, emerald eyes.

Hermione glanced at the round-faced clock on her bedside table and saw that she still had almost an hour until Ginny was expecting her at the Burrow. "Ugh, just enough time for my hair," She thought wryly, running a hand through her bushy mess of curls. Sitting on her bed, she brushed her hair straight, treating her locks with the necessary serums and magic to force it to fall smoothly over her shoulders. In a move that struck her as rather redundant, she then curled her hair, forming loose ringlets that bounced over her shoulders. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror: the combination of her dress and her hair recalled the flapper styles of the 1920s. Hermione thought her look be appropriate for the engagement party, which Ginny had wanted to be old-time glamorous.

In line with the theme she was aiming for, Hermione lined her eyes with a dark kohl pencil and stained her lips a deep red. Finishing her look with black, beaded chandelier earrings and a long strand of shimmering black beads, she begrudgingly deemed her look as more than sufficient. Labeling herself as pretty was never something that Hermione was particularly confident in doing. Another quick look at her clock, and Hermione realized she had to be leaving. After sliding on a glittery pair of black pumps, grapping a matching clutch, and wrapping a lightweight, ivory shawl around her bare shoulders, she rushed to her living room fireplace. A handful of bright green powder and a definitive yell of "the Burrow," and Hermione disappeared in a stunning flash of green light.

-o-O-o-

The living room of the Burrow was empty except for Mrs. Weasley and baby Sophie. The older woman was seated on the couch, lovingly cradling her infant granddaughter.

"Oh, am I early?" Hermione asked the moment she stumbled out of the fireplace.

"No, dear…you're fine…and you look so beautiful," Molly replied, standing up and offering Hermione a swift, but affectionate, hug with the arm that wasn't holding Sophie. Hermione thought she detected a tinge of pride in the older woman's tone. "Ginny and the rest are outside,"

"Outside," Hermione shuddered slightly. There was still a fine layer of snow on the ground and she hadn't brought a cover other than her flimsy shawl. "Are you joining us?"

"Oh I doubt that," Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Arthur and I are on babysitting duty….we have all the grandchildren…so well probably stay in here…let you young folks have fun."

"Ok, well if you have a change of heart, come out and join us," Hermione grinned, patting Mrs. Weasley on the shoulder and ruffling Sophie's curly hair.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled softly: "Well, maybe I'll consider that…but you go outside, Ginny will be waiting for you."

-o-O-o-

Hermione left the living room and exited the Burrow through the back door. She shivered when she walked out into the cold of the early evening. A large white tent had been set up in the Burrow's backyard. Hermione muttered irritably under her breath while snow filled up her shoes as she wandered across the yard to the tent. The minute she stepped into the tent, though, she smiled in relief; the covered area was warm and dry. A shimmering dance surface, a bar, and a series of small, round tables surrounded with chairs filled the space under the tented area and several long benches lined the sides. Coloured lanterns hovered below the roof, bringing dim, ethereal light to the set up. A large, rectangular banner proclaiming "Congratulations Harry and Ginny," in bold, silver italics was hung along one side of the canopy. The covered area was so large it defied physics; Hermione knew that only magic was capable of holding up such a massive canopy.

"Mione!" Ginny yelled, waving at her friend as she entered the tented area. Hermione stepped across the dance floor to join Ginny beside the bar, where the other girl was fiddling with the sound system. "Mione! You look incredible!" Ginny gleefully shrieked. Hermione could tell that her dear friend was very much in her element. Ginny seemed eager for her guests to arrive, so that she could play host while everyone celebrated her and Harry's engagement. Unlike Hermione, the spirited and outgoing Ginny never shirked away from being the centre of attention.

"You to do!" Hermione replied excitedly while she and Ginny exchanged lively hugs. Ginny looked perfect for a future bride at her own engagement party. She was wearing a glittering, ivory, cocktail dress. The dress was covered in layers of fringes that danced around the energetic girl whenever she moved, giving all her movements a vibrant animation. Her long red hair was worn down and looked silky in the dim light.

"I'm so glad you're here now. You're one of the first." Ginny's voice continued to be high-pitched and enthusiastic.

"Yah, I see that," Hermione laughed. The tented area was almost completely deserted. Other than Hermione and Ginny, only Harry, Ron, and Lavender Brown were present. The other three had claimed one of the tables towards the edge of the covered area. "Are you expecting lots of people?" She asked curiously.

"Er…sounds like we might be. The guest list just seemed to get longer and longer. I wouldn't be surprised if our entire class showed up," Ginny chuckled. Hermione laughed at her friend's explanation. It was not a shock that Ginny and Harry would have difficulties keeping their party small. After all, there were many in the wizard community who would be eager to attend such a celebration and Hermione imagined that many made an effort to secure an invite to the engagement party of The Boy Who Lived.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite little sister,"

Hermione twisted sharply at the sound of a voice behind her and Ginny.

"Oh hi George," Hermione smiled, seeing George stride across the dance floor to join them by the bar. George was dressed smarty in a dark, structured suit with a crisp white shirt and a narrow black tie. Ginny had obviously mentioned to him beforehand that the party was to be a stylish event.

"Miss Granger," George nodded in Hermione's direction before turning to Ginny. "Congratulations, darling," He said to his younger sister. The siblings embraced as George scooped up his little sister in an all-encompassing bear hug that lifted her feet of the ground. Twirling her playfully, he set Ginny back on the ground. "Get over here, Mione," George exclaimed in Hermione's direction. Hermione chuckled at George's undeniable energy, finding amusement in his excitement. Nevertheless, she bounced over to him, laughing giddily as he picked her off the ground, hugging her just as enthusiastically has he had embraced his little sister. She could feel his rough, calloused hands against her exposed back, but ignored the way his touch made her skin shiver and her lips quiver. She steadied herself on her heels when George placed her back on the dance floor, worried that the dizziness from being spun would cause her to tumble over.

"I'm so, so happy you made it. I can't believe you're so early," Ginny exclaimed.

"Well…I had to see you," George grinned in his signature crooked way. "Besides I didn't have practice today….So, it wasn't like I was busy. Is Fred here yet?" He asked with liveliness in his voice.

"Yah, he and Ang are just inside. I guess Ethan was a little cranky. They should be out here soon, though."

"Brilliant." George whistled, clearly delighted that his twin was able to attend the party. "I got you a little present, Gin," He added.

"You didn't have to do that," Ginny exclaimed, slapping her brother's shoulder mischievously.

"Of course I did. It's not every day that my favourite sister celebrates her engagement." George chuckled while reaching into an interior pocket of his suit jacket. "Here we are, love," He said jovially, handing Ginny a small, royal blue, velvet box.

"Oh good Godric," Ginny quietly admired the contents of the box. She held out the box for Hermione to see. Inside, on pale ivory satin, sat a pair of gorgeous earrings. The drop style earrings consisted of exquisite, dark blue, teardrop gems. A small, but impressive, cluster of diamonds sat at the top point of the gems. "George…this is incredible. You didn't have to…"

"Of course I did," George grinned. "I'm not going to miss the opportunity to get you something."

"Those are amazing," Hermione complemented. "They match your outfit perfectly too, Gin," She added, noticing that Ginny had already donned the new jewelry.

"Don't think I forgot about you, Mione," George said in his laidback way, producing a second, identical box from his jacket pocket.

"George! You shouldn't…Why would you get something for me?" Hermione inquired excitedly. She was shocked at George's consideration.

"What sort of brother would I be if I forgot all about my little sister's maid of honour?" George teasingly questioned, handing Hermione the box. She carefully opened it, gasping when she saw what was on the inside. Two delicate, perfect diamond studs were secured to the ivory lining. The stones were incredibly clear and entirely unblemished.

"I didn't know what colours or styles you liked…so I just went with the classic. I hope you don't mind," George said in a tone that Hermione thought was almost apologetic.

"Are you serious? These are just perfect." Hermione whispered. The diamonds in her hand were far and away the most extraordinary item of jewelry that she owned. She couldn't believe that George thought to get them for her. Quickly removing her costume, chandelier earrings and stowing them in her clutch, Hermione placed the diamonds in their stead.

"How's that?" She asked Ginny.

"They're fantastic on you, Mione." Ginny smiled, before turning to face her older brother. "You're the best Georgie…I'm so glad you're here...It would be the worst if you hadn't been able to make it…" Hermione swore she caught her friend's voice breaking and knew that Ginny was overjoyed to have her adored brother back in town and at her celebration.

"Anytime," George simply said, reciprocating Ginny's hug when his little sister, once again, flung herself into his arms. Hermione stood idly by, unsure if she should leave the siblings and allow them some private time. When Ginny grabbed her arm, she knew she was fine staying. Hermione realized she didn't need to worry; she was always around loved ones when she was surrounded by Weasleys.

"Do you girls want to grab a drink?" George asked with a rakish grin.

"Isn't it a little early?" Hermione questioned.

"No," Ginny and George volunteered emphatically in unison with near identical, mischievous smiles playing across their faces.

-o-O-o-

Several of the partners of Ginny's Quidditch teammates had agreed to act as bartenders, but as they weren't yet at the party, George took a spot behind the bar to fix drinks for Hermione, Ginny, and himself. With his jacket removed and his shirt sleeves rolled up, Hermione had to admit that he looked strikingly handsome in the dim light created by the floating lanterns.

"Ok, so what do you girls want?" He asked, locating a martini shaker behind the bar.

"Surprise us," Ginny replied good-naturedly. Hermione watched as George combined splashes of several beverages in the tall, silver container. Expertly he shook the container and then poured three, equal measurements into smaller tumblers. The resulting liquid was a bright pink and looked unexpectedly appetizing.

"Well, cheers," George continued, softly bumping his glass against Hermione's. He laughed, throwing his head back and pouring his beverage into his mouth. Hermione and Ginny followed suit. The drink that George had concocted was sweet and tasted like strawberries. Hermione was relieved that it lacked the bitterness of most alcoholic beverages. The sweet, flavourful drink was surprisingly easy to drink.

"Well…cheers…" She echoed George's sentiment, smiling coyly at him.

"Generally I'd be drinking shots with Fred," George grinned. "Of course, we're usually drinking a bit harder stuff…" He laughed.

"Hey, speaking of…" Ginny replied pointing, at the same time, to the edge of the tent; Fred and Angelina had just entered the area.

"Oi, I'll see you girls later…I need to go say hi to those two," George added hastily. He hustled towards his twin, greeting Fred with an odd combination of a high five and a hug.

"Ah…Ginny" – Hermione addressed her friend quietly enough to ensure that the others under the tent wouldn't hear her – "I'm not sure about this gift…it's awfully generous…" Her voice faded as she lifted her hands to her ears, fingering the fantastic set of diamonds that George had given her.

"Oh don't worry about that," Ginny replied flippantly, waving her hand dismissively, indicating to Hermione that the gift wasn't a gesture that demanded a lot of thought. "That's just George. He likes doing stuff like that. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to pick something up and got a little carried away."

"Yah?"

"Oh definitely…I bet he just passed the jewelry store today and thought of me and decided to buy me something. Then he probably remembered you too. He's like that…George…he's always loved to spoil me," Ginny reassured her, smiling fondly for her older brother at the same time.

"Ok good," Hermione replied; Ginny's explanation had helped alleviate her concerns.

"Yah, so don't worry and think that it's weird or that he spent too much money or anything. George likes to give gifts and he's always really liked you, so no surprise that he wanted to get you something nice." Ginny reiterated her take on George's presents. "Hey, you want to go join the guys?" She asked, indicating towards the table that Ron and Harry were occupying with Lavender. Hermione nodded and the two young women strolled across the dance floor to join their friends. Harry, Ron, and Lavender welcomed them happily. Hermione pulled a spare chair up to the table and lounged back in it. Glancing around the tented area, she noticed that guests were starting to trickle in. She looked to Ginny, giggling at the sight of the red-heads gleeful smile. Hermione leaned further back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap; she had an undeniable sense that it was going to be an enjoyable night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! _

Less than fifteen minutes after Hermione and Ginny sat down with Harry, Ron, and Lavender, the party was almost entirely in full swing. It was amusing, Hermione thought, that all of Ginny and Harry's guests seemed to know to arrive fashionably late at the exact same time. Once the tent started to fill up, it didn't take long for the twin's old friend, Lee Jordan, to claim the roll of DJ and for several willing guests to take over serving drinks. The dance floor was still sparse, but there were a number of couples occupying the space, intent on initiating the revelry.

"Ah, we should probably mingle," Harry suggested to Ginny, gesturing to the tables that were crowded with their guests. Ginny nodded and accepted his hand and the pair disappeared into the sea of partiers. Hermione was disappointed to see her friends leave, but understood; they were, after all, the couple of honour and others wanted a chance to see them as well. At the same time, Ron and Lavender had left to join the dancers: a fact Hermione only discovered when she turned to talk to the apparent couple.

"Well…it's just me I guess…" Hermione mentally sighed. She clasped her hands on the empty table, tucked her feet under her chair, and leaned forward to watch the dancers. It hadn't occurred to her until that moment that, if Ron was indeed seeing Lavender as it now appeared, she had become the fifth wheel in her closest group of friends. It wasn't a situation she necessarily welcomed. Scouring the guests for a familiar face to join, she saw Neville and Luna sitting together. Ginny had speculated during their Christmastime gossip-fest that the pair was soon to become an official couple, so Hermione thought better than to interrupt two of her other dearest friends. Another look around the tent, and she noticed most of the other Weasleys, but didn't necessarily want to go include herself with any of them.

"Looks like it's just going to be you and me, Mione," A voice sounded from behind her. Hermione realized she didn't need to go locate a new companion when George pulled one of the several unoccupied chairs out from under the table and lounged in it casually. "Here…this is for you," He laughed and set two tumblers on the table, both filled with the bright pink liquid that George had mixed for Hermione and Ginny earlier.

"Hey George," Hermione said, perhaps a little too brightly, happy to have someone there to keep her company. "What's this?"

"Nothing much, just thought we could share a little drink" George said, smiling nonchalantly and leaning further back in his chair.

"You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?" Hermione asked, looking at George with a teasing expression playing across her face.

"Never…That certainly does not sound like something I'd do," George's roguish grin said otherwise. "You should share a drink with me though…I don't consider it to be a good night unless I have a drink with the prettiest girl at the party." His blue eyes glittered with a sparkle that left Hermione feeling flustered.

Hermione bit her lower lip and blushed slightly at George's compliment; she still wasn't accustomed to be on the receiving end of his renowned flirtation. She hastily changed the topic, hoping that he hadn't perceived the deepening pink on her cheeks: "Where are Fred and Ang?" She asked, curious as to why George was no longer with the couple.

"Out on the dance floor," George pointed out Angelina's vibrant, canary yellow dress. Fred was enthusiastically spinning his wife around in an energetic dance. Hermione figured that the couple was excited to have a night to their own where they didn't have to take care of their twins. "They're probably going to have to leave a bit early." George added. Hermione swore she caught a trace of disappointment in George's voice.

"Awe, I'm sorry George," Hermione spoke sincerely, reaching over to rub George's shoulder.

"It's understandable," George shrugged. "In the meantime, you get to be my partner in crime tonight." He grinned impishly, nudging Hermione's arm with his elbow.

"Do I want to know what that means?" Hermione asked. "Will it be something that I'm capable of?" She giggled, trying to sound laidback.

"Oh, I have faith in you, Granger…just take your cues from me…here," George replied, sliding the small glass in front of Hermione. "You remember what to do with this?"

"Hmmm" – Hermione picked up the pink liquid – "Cheers, mate" She said, gently bumping her glass against George's.

"Perfect," George smiled. "And drink," The pair smiled and clinked their glasses together before swiftly drinking the contents of their tumblers. George soundly banged his glass on the table and immediately started to bob his head along with the lively song echoing through the tented area. "And now we go dance," He laughed and rose from his chair, holding out both his hands to Hermione. Without hesitation, Hermione accepted his offer. After all, dancing with an attractive bloke generally won out easily over sitting alone.

-o-O-o-

Taking a firm grasp of Hermione's hand, George boosted her up from her chair and led her towards the dance floor and through the spinning couples, stopping just once to affectionately pat Fred on the shoulder.

"You go easy on our dear, Mione," Fred laughed as the pair passed him and Angelina.

"She's in good hands, Freddie," George responded impishly.

"Have fun you two," Angelina grinned at Hermione before Fred whisked her into a twirl. Hermione laughed; Fred and Angelina's palpable joy at being able to spend the evening together on the dance floor was contagious. As George eagerly guided her along the smooth surface, Hermione felt less and less uneasy about the prospect of dancing. All the couples seemed to be having an enjoyable time, even those who obviously had no aptitude for fluid movement. In what must have been the very centre of the dance floor, George halted and immediately spun Hermione into an energetic twirl.

"Ready to go Mione?" He asked playfully with a confident grin after Hermione's spin ended. Although she wasn't positive – dancing was never something for which she had much talent – Hermione nodded regardless:

"Let's see what you've got, Weasley," She returned his teasing tone. Whatever qualms Hermione had about dancing, George clearly shared none of them. He moved enthusiastically and with precision. With one hand continuing to hold Hermione's and the other placed at her waist, he led her around the dance floor, carefully dodging the other dancers, easily keeping time with the upbeat melody. Hermione found herself grinning joyously. Dancing with George was not a challenge, as all Hermione had to do was respond to his lead. He expertly steered her through a modified waltz-like dance, occasionally stopping to push Hermione into a quick spin. Hermione's cheeks started to hurt from smiling so widely and her heart beat rapidly due to the vigorous movement. Her body felt more lively and capable in George's skilled arms than it did normally. Whenever George assertively coaxed her into a twirl – which was often – she would laugh gleefully as her skirt elevated slightly off her thighs, pushed up by the momentum of the tight, quick spins. Hermione was aware that her animated giggles were uncharacteristic for her, but she couldn't chide herself over the reaction; she was having too much fun to care. Her surroundings faded into a mess of the colours of the other revelers' outfits and her vision grew blurrier from the spinning and the escalating effects of the pink drinks. All that mattered, though, were the music, the movement, and George's hand in hers.

Too soon, the song finished and Hermione and George ceased their movements. They stood in place momentarily: Hermione's hand still lingered on George's shoulder and his remained at her side. George leaned down to speak quietly into Hermione's ear.

"Hey, Mione…do you mind just waiting here for a moment?" George asked, his cheek gently grazing Hermione's. Without awaiting a reply, he released Hermione's hand and vanished through the throng of dancing bodies. Hermione let her arms fall awkwardly to her side, unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. Another song started and the dancers moved energetically around Hermione, keeping pace with the upbeat music. Hermione continued to stand self-consciously on the spot, wondering if she should just return to her table.

In the moment that she had decided that George lost interest in dancing, figuring that she might as well find an empty chair and sit on her lonesome, the music changed mid-song and a slow, melodic tune reverberated from the sound system. Turning around, Hermione saw George pushing his way through the crowd of swaying couples. Unintentionally her breath quickened and her heartbeat hastened. George's once-crisp, white shirt had gained some wrinkles and his slacken, black tie hung in a loose knot around his mostly exposed neck, but the added dishevel didn't lessen his attractiveness in the least. Striding across the dance floor, looking tall and imposing compared to the other dancers, George cut a striking figure. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his shaggy red hair hung casually over his forehead and his smile was bright: all of which only served to make him look more appealing. As he reached Hermione, he smiled at her with his crooked but confident smile and Hermione though her knees might buckle. She clasped her hands together behind her back and willed herself to remain standing. How she had never appreciated the full extent of George's handsomeness was a mystery.

"I managed to convince Lee to give us something a wee bit slower," George said softly with a hint of a laugh while he pushed his bright red hair off his forehead.

"That's nice," Hermione murmured; her constricted throat was only capable of forming the simple sentence.

"I hope you don't mind," George added in a husky voice with a slight grin. Without awaiting her cue, he eagerly engulfed Hermione's waist with his hands. All Hermione could do was nod her assent and lift her own hands to George's shoulders. Initially, she merely rested her palms on his shoulders, but as George continued to hold her tightly, she allowed herself to entwine her hands around his neck. Without thinking, she placed her head against George's chest. The sound of his heart filled her ear, almost drowning out the soft melody resonating over the dance floor. She sighed with pleasure as his muscular arms surrounded her even tighter, his grasp becoming increasingly snug. It was fortunate, she knew: without his support, she wouldn't have trusted her legs to prevent her from toppling over.

Hermione was aware that her hold was closer than necessary for the dance, but she had no desire to relax it. The fact that their nearness would invoke curiosity from any interested bystanders, likewise, didn't persuade Hermione to weaken her grasp of George's neck. She could feel his hands exploring her exposed back. From his years of playing Quidditch, his fingers and palms had developed an impressive layer of calluses, but his touch was gentle. As his fingers roamed up and down her exposed spin, Hermione felt shivers spreading through her body, increasing in intensity with every one of his strokes.

Slowly, the pair swayed in spot, in something that resembled an embrace more than it did a dance. George's arms were strong and his touch was welcomed; Hermione liked the way she felt in his grasp. Her mouth quivered into a smile as George let his chin rest on the top of her head, bringing as much of their bodies into contact as the very public environment would allow. Hermione sighed: everything about the moment was magical. The hair on her arms stood up in excitement, her face had grown flush, and she was aware that heat was radiating from her cheeks. Dryness had overtaken her throat, making breathing difficult, but it didn't bother Hermione. Gently, she wrapped her fingers though the longest strands of hair on the back of George's head. George stopped stepping in place and so did Hermione. All pretense of a dance drifted away as the pair stood entwined in each other's arms. Neither moved; other than the gentle pattern that George traced with his fingers across Hermione's revealed back, they were perfectly still.

"Hey mate, we're going to leave," An unwelcomed voice broke into the tranquility that had enveloped the pair.

Hermione lifted her head off of George's chest. Fred had spoken the interjection. He and Angelina had come to stand right beside Hermione and George.

"Yah, sure thing mate," George muttered. Hermione released her grasp of George's torso, suddenly self-conscious that the other Weasley twin had interrupted them while they had been dancing so intimately. "How 'bout a trip to the bar before you're off?" George asked with a wide grin.

"That sounds like a plan," Fred's smile was identical to his twin's. Hermione and Angelina fell into step behind the twins as Fred and George excitedly pushed their way through the gently swaying guests. Hermione and Angelina were a little more respectful. In their attempt to carefully dodge the others on the dance surface, they ended up reaching the bar some time after their two companions.

"For you, Mione," George laughed, handing her a glass of the pink mixture that she had enjoyed several times already. He and Fred were holding identical containers of a pale gold liquid.

"And none for you Ang," Fred added with the same laugh.

"Motherhood," Angelina shrugged good-naturedly. Hermione smiled at her nonchalant attitude. She remembered why she had always liked the older girl. Angelina had an easygoing spirit and a natural friendliness that Hermione had found appealing from the moment she had started to get to know her. "Well…you guys have your fun," Angelina added with an encouraging wave of her hand.

"Cheers Georgie?"

"Cheers Freddie,"

The twins elatedly drank their beverages and Hermione chuckled before doing the same with hers. She knew the extra alcohol was more than she needed and she could feel the cloudiness of intoxication overcome her mind. The room spun a little quicker than it had before, the colours of her surrounding melted together a little more completely, and her giggles came a little more effortlessly.

"It was lovely seeing you again, Mione," Angelina said sweetly, bending down from her lofty height to secure Hermione into an affectionate hug.

"You too, Ang," Hermione said, returning the embrace.

"I'll walk you guys back to the Burrow. Want to come too Mione?" George asked, turning from the couple to Hermione. Hermione glanced across the snow-covered path to the Burrow. The terrain would be difficult to cover in her teetering pumps, but the covered area had become uncomfortably stuffy and she had to admit that she wasn't ready to leave George. Nodding in agreement, Hermione followed the trio out of the tent and into the snow.

-o-O-o-

The frostiness of the air outside of the canopy was striking. A fine layer of snow covered the Burrow's back yard, but the pink drinks that Hermione had been consuming helped her ignore the snow that was filling her shoes. Occasional snowflakes still fell and some adhered to Hermione's hair. Her flush cheeks, vibrant green dress, and snow-sprinkled curls gave her appearance an otherworldly etherealness. She glanced at Fred and Angelina walking hand-in-hand in front of her and felt a surge of joy for the couple; Fred and Angelina always warmed her heart.

"Thanks for joining us, Mione." George's rich voice echoed behind her. She halted and saw that he had approached her and was offering her his arm.

"Of course," Hermione replied with a charming grin, gratefully slipping her hand through the crook of George's arm. The combination of the snowy ground, the pink beverages, and her unpractical shoes had made walking a challenge. At a leisurely pace, the group ambled across the yard towards the Burrow. Once they reached the backdoor of the old house, Hermione and George wished their goodbyes to Fred and Angelina and the couple disappeared into the house. Hermione and George turned to wander back to the tent.

Quickening his pace slightly, George stuffed his hand into his pockets. As Hermione faltered slowly across the uneven ground, she wished that he would, once again, volunteer his assistance. She considered asking for his support, but didn't, sensing that something was weighing on George's mind. He hadn't said much as they had wandered across the yard, his shoulders were more hunched than normal and a quiet contemplation lay in his eyes.

"Are you having a good time tonight, George," Hermione didn't pry, but she questioned George with thoughtfulness in her voice.

"Yah…I am….You know, I know it sounds weird…but I miss Fred sometimes…like the old Fred." George spoke speculatively, his walk coming to a halt.

"What do you mean?" Hermione ceased walking as well and stood next to George. Her heels sank into the snow and she crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the cold nip of the nighttime air.

"Well…I guess…I guess I just didn't appreciate how much he changed. When I was in Egypt, I was just playing Quidditch…hanging out with the lads…having a good time. But Fred…he was being a grownup…becoming a dad…it just seems so different. I mean, not long ago, we would have been the last at that party" George pointed ahead of them at the canopy that was still surrounded with music and laughed with a fond reminiscence. "We would have been at the very centre…owning the party…Now he's going in to take care of his kids…It's just so bizarre," George took a deep breath and looked off, past the tent, towards something unseen in the distance. "I know I shouldn't complain…I mean…" He paused.

Hermione didn't press him on the matter, but she knew why he was so unwilling to complete the thought. After the final battle at Hogwarts, Fred had spent a tense week in St. Mungo's critical unit. There had been moments where it had been uncertain whether he would recover from the injuries he'd sustained during the fight. Hermione knew that George was imagining what his life would have been like had Fred not survived. It was a period of time that had been so difficult that the Weasley family scarcely mentioned it.

"George…I…" Hermione faltered.

"It's alright, Mione" – George quickly interjected – "You were great tonight. You made an excellent partner in crime," A soft twinkle had returned to his brilliant blue eyes. "One of the best."

"Really?" Hermione replied. "I haven't really done anything special."

"I wouldn't say that…I've think you've been pretty special all night." George lowered his intense gaze directly into Hermione's eyes. He gulped and opened his mouth and Hermione wondered if he was going to say something. However, George hesitated rather than speaking, licking his upper lip instead of saying anything. Clearing his throat, he eventually continued:

"Hey, are you cold, Mione? You look like your freezing." The way George hastily rushed his words made Hermione wonder if the comment was different than that which he had originally planned on saying.

"No, I'm fine," Hermione shook her head, but she knew that her bright, red earlobes, her chattering teeth, and quick vibrations of shivers gave away the truth. She had long since mislaid her shawl, her dress didn't offer much cover, the fabric was flimsy, and the night's temperature had dropped: she was cold.

"Come here, Mione," George's voice was husky as he pulled his hands from his pockets and held out his arms invitingly. Hermione pitched forward into his embrace, welcoming the warmth of his hold. One of his hands gently massaged the length of her back while the other idly caressed her curls. Hermione gladly wrapped her arms around George's broad torso, grabbing fistfuls of his white shirt to pull him closer to her. His body radiated heat and suddenly the cold of the air was not so penetrable. With her cheek pressed against George's chest, Hermione appreciated his scent, which was musty from dancing, but not at all unappealing. His hand moved to her bare shoulders. She sighed as he rubbed them warm. Hermione was aware that the night surrounding them was near perfection – the stars were vivid, the snow was peaceful, and the quiet twinkling of music could still be heard from the tent – but such superfluous details couldn't rival George's embrace.

"Have I told you yet that you look terribly gorgeous tonight?" George murmured, interrupting Hermione's blissful stupor. His voice was raspy, as if spoken from the back of his throat. Hermione pulled her head from George's chest and strained her neck to peer up into his eyes. The blues of his irises were disarmingly intense. His angular features were partially obscured by the shadows of the night, but his smile was still bright.

"No, I'm afraid you haven't." The inflections of her reply were so flirtatious that Hermione could hardly believe that it was she who had spoken. The peaceful beauty of the night, the lingering excitement of the dance and the glasses of the pink concoction had evidently worked to lessen her inhibitions. She gazed intently back at George: struggling to reconcile the handsome, young man in her line of sight with the mischievous prankster she once knew, trying to fathom how she had come to find so much enjoyment from the arms of her old friend. His black tie continued to hang rakishly in a slacken knot around his neck. Hermione longed to grab hold of it and leverage George closer to her so that she could take his lips with hers, but refrained, knowing that such behaviour was well outside the normal bounds of friendship.

"Well, you do. Terribly, terribly gorgeous," He muttered. His tone and his words were so tender that they caused Hermione's heart to start beating furiously and a more vivid flush to creep into her face. His gaze had grown more penetrating and Hermione's desire to lose herself in an all-encompassing kiss only increased as she stared into his stunning eyes and listened to his gently spoken compliments.

"Er well…I'm sure that's largely accredited to these amazing earrings." Hermione's dry mouth barely managed to form the words. As alluring as George's eyes were, there was also something intimidating about them. Hermione had heard the rumors that George had a tendency to be an unrelenting flirt and she was worried that he had merely decided to target her as the one on whom to work his charm. Also, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if his undeniable sweetness and flattering comments were motivated more by the drinks he had consumed than by actual feelings.

"Those earrings are nothing Hermione….nothing compared to that dress and the way that you're wearing it." He countered quietly, but fervently. "You're kind-of the best, you know,"

"Ah, thanks George," Hermione replied. His complements were welcomed, but also startling. After all, he'd never spoken to her that way before. She pictured her own neat writing on a page of her notepad – "_Don't unnecessarily read into situations" – _and told herself not to make a bigger deal out of George's potentially alcohol-induced ramblings than needed.

"George? Hermione? Is that you two?" A loud yell echoed from near the tent. Hermione shook her head, only able to find amusement in the fact that she and George had, yet again, been interrupted mid-embrace. Glancing towards the canopy, through the darkness of the night, she could see a small, waving figure that resembled Ginny.

"Damn…my little sister has always had the worst timing," George groaned and released his hold of Hermione. The moment he removed his arms, Hermione's skin was open to the cold and she shivered once free from George's warm embrace. "Well, let's go see what she wants." George laughed wryly, casually looping an arm around Hermione's shoulder. Shyly, Hermione hooked her arm around George's torso as they wandered back across the yard to the tent.

"I haven't seen you two all night," Ginny sighed happily when the pair neared her. Hermione didn't detect any accusation in the younger girl's tone. Ginny didn't seem intent on interrogating the pair as to their whereabouts.

"We were just walking Fred and Angelina back to the Burrow," Hermione disclosed regardless.

"Oh, the party seems to be winding down," Ginny replied. "Come join the rest of us." While Hermione trailed after Ginny, she tried not to pay too much attention to George who was keeping pace beside her. Their interaction throughout the night left her confused. She couldn't decipher what his intentions had been in his hug, dance, gift, and flattering remarks and was worried that if she allowed herself to believe that they had meant something, she would wind up hurt. "_Don't unnecessarily read into situations,_" She mentally reiterated as she continuing to follow Ginny into the tented area.

Ginny, George, and Hermione entered the canopy and were greeted by the remaining guests. Hermione glanced around at the familiar faces. The tent was primarily populated by Weasleys and some of her closest friends. A few keen revelers continued to take advantage of the dance floor, trying to prolong what was left of the party, but for the most part, the tent was scarcely populated. Ginny claimed a spot beside Harry on one of the benches and pulled Hermione down next to her.

"I'm sorry I didn't see you much tonight," Hermione murmured to her friend as the red head leaned against her shoulder.

"No worries, Mione." Ginny replied good-naturedly. "As long as you were having fun…Were you? Having fun?"

Hermione paused before answering to ponder her friend's question. She thought of the way she had spent much of the night in George's arms and was not sure how she should respond. "You know, I did have fun…" Hermione countered eventually, knowing that she spoke the truth.

"That's good," Ginny returned absentmindedly.

"Did you have fun, Gin?"

"I did…It was a great night. The dance floor was the best…everyone was so great for coming…it was lovely…" Ginny finished with a yawn. It was obvious that the bride-to-be was exhausted. Her head slumped heavily against Hermione's shoulder. Hermione idly ran a hand through her companion's long, red hair and looked around the tent. She saw George standing with Ron, Lavender, Neville, and Luna. He had his back turned to her and Hermione stared intently at the white shirt across his broad back. She wished she could somehow see through his back and gain access to his motivations. Otherwise, she had no way of understanding his intentions throughout the night. Biting her bottom lip and pausing her hand mid-stroke though Ginny's hair, Hermione begrudgingly acknowledged that she hoped that George had not been acting on mere drunkenness or flirtation. Her attraction to the fun-loving, handsome Weasley twin was undeniable and she wanted the feeling to be reciprocated. With a frustrated sigh, she realized that, while the night had been enjoyable, it had mainly been perplexing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

_Author's note: As always, thank you so much for reading. I appreciated it so much! Also, still not mine. _

Hermione's confusion from Harry and Ginny's party lingered the following day. She tried to push aside George-related concerns and focus entirely on her House Elf work, but the task proved difficult. Often she would catch herself imagining his vivid blue eyes or remembering the way his touch had brought so much pleasure. After such incidences, she would force herself to disregard her foolish daydreams and return to her work. During her subsequent day back at work at the Ministry, she did her best to not picture George or to consider him, concentrating instead on her editing.

"Hey, Mione…how's it going?"

Hermione glanced up from her editing to the _Amendment to the Act for the Proper use of "Electronic" Muggle Artifacts_ and saw her coworker, Holly Landry, standing in her office doorway.

"Oh, Holly…good to see you, come in," Hermione replied absentmindedly. Holly strode into Hermione's office and claimed the stool sitting next to the desk. Perching awkwardly on it in her short skirt, she grinned at Hermione.

"So, did you have fun at the party?"

"Eh?" Hermione questioned, not sure to which party Holly referred.

"Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's engagement party this weekend. You were there, I definitely saw you,' Holly said with an easygoing laugh.

"Yah, I was there…I didn't realize you were too…" Hermione retorted, shocked that she hadn't been aware that her friend had been in attendance.

"Oh yah, I went with Oliver," Holly replied good-naturedly.

"With Oliver?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"Oi, you haven't heard? We've been seeing each other since that New Year's party…just having fun…you know, having fun," Holly answered with a wink.

"I know what you mean," Hermione added hastily, not wanting to encourage her friend to go into unwelcomed details.

"You and George Weasley looked awfully cozy at the party," Holly cast a furtive, sideways glance at Hermione as she brought up the topic Hermione had been trying to ignore all day.

"No…we hung out a bit…but it was nothing," Hermione stammered quietly.

"Really? Because he seemed to be pretty into you,"

"I think George is into a lot of girls," Hermione speculated under her breath.

"Well, that may be so, but you were the only girl he was rubbing up against at the party," Holly commented thoughtfully with a cheeky smile.

"H-Holly!" – Hermione sputtered – "I-I don't even know what you're talking about." She fell silent, knowing exactly to which Holly referred. "Did you just come by to interrogate me?" Hermione asked after a lengthy pause.

"No, I was bored," The blonde laughed. Her tinkling giggles were infectious and Hermione caught herself joining in. She leaned back in her chair, appreciating that Holly was a pleasant distraction from the tedious editing.

"How was your weekend other than the party, Hol," Hermione asked, preferring to chat with her friend rather than responsibly return to her work. Midway through Holly's response, the two young women were interrupted by another knock at Hermione's office door. Hermione looked up and quickly sucked her breath in past her teeth in surprise. The brilliant blue eyes, angular features, and crooked smile that she had spent the day attempting not to conjure in her imagination were at the doorway.

"George, good seeing you," Holly greeted the young man who had entered Hermione's office before Hermione was capable of response.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked once she had found her voice. "Ah, I mean it's nice to see you,"

"Hey you two," George said, striding towards the centre of the office in a couple of long steps. "I thought I'd swing by for a visit." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see that Holly was visibly trying to conceal her excitement.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, still confused as to George's presence in her office.

"Nothing much…I didn't have practice today…and I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out. What are the odds you'd be able to get the rest of the day off?" George's rakishly confident grin behooved Hermione to have to turn down his offer.

"Er, I don't know George…I have a lot of work to do…" Hermione considered aloud, motioning with her feather quill at the thick stack of parchment that sat in front of her to indicate the business of her schedule.

"Oh Mione, You can take an afternoon off" – Holly interjected – "Seriously, no one works harder than this girl," She continued, directing her comment towards George.

"See Mione. You should come with me," George's laidback tone was nothing if not convincing.

"Er, well…" Hermione murmured.

"I'll go get Minister Fitzcharles and you can ask him personally for the rest of the day off," Holly offered in reference to their department supervisor. The blonde energetically jumped up from the stool. Leaving the office, she turned and flashed Hermione a very obvious thumbs up. Hermione rolled her eyes, certain that George was aware of her friend's keenness at his presence.

"Er…Y-you didn't have to come by, you know," Hermione stammered.

"Yah, I did…I felt like seeing you-"

George was interrupted when Minister Fitzcharles stuck his head in through the doorway. "Miss Grammar…I heard you wanted to see me."

"Ah, yes, Minister Fitzcharles" – Hermione replied as the Minister entered her office – "I, ah, must say, I love your outfit today," She recalled her reminder to always compliment Minister Fitzcharles on his wardrobe. Even though she didn't find his eggshell blue suit and ruffled white shirt overly attractive, Hermione thought best to begin her request by flattering her superior.

"It's really sharp, mate," George added with a grin that Hermione thought looked almost sincere.

"Who are you?" The balding, blonde man snapped at George.

"Ah, this is George…he's-"

"I'm her…ah….I-I'm her landlord" – George interrupted Hermione's explanation in a tone of adopted self-importance – "I ah, had to come see Miss Granger…because…you see…well…there's-there's been an issue with her flat." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows incredulously at George as he concocted a reason for why she would need to be excused from work. His account seemed so blatantly fabricated, that Hermione was certain that Minister Fitzcharles was aware of its falsehood. She didn't interject though, curious as to where George was taking his story. "There's been a problem you see…I'm afraid…well…the tenant directly above Miss Granger was-was…ah, experimenting…with the most unfortunate magic…and there's been extensive damage to Miss Granger's flat," George grinned as his tale began to take life. "It requires her immediate attention. She must come with me at once."

Hermione cast a disbelieving look at Minister Fitzcharles as he absentmindedly nodded along with George's story, clearly buying the made-up tale. Based on the way he was flipping through a stack of parchment in his arms, Hermione figured her superior hadn't really been listening to George.

"Very well…take the rest of the day…best of luck with your flat, Harmony," Minister Fitzcharles mentioned without looking up from the parchment after George came to the completion of his fabrication.

"Well…we must leave at once. Come along, Harmony…time is of the essence." George stated pompously, quite obviously channeling his older brother, Percy. Hermione coughed to hide her giggles at George's use of the name Minister Fitzcharles had incorrectly called her.

"Oh this is ever so stressful…thank you so much for giving me the time off, Minister Fitzcharles," Hermione added in her best frazzled yet appreciative voice. Standing up from her chair, she hastily tidied the parchment she was working on and grabbed her beaded bag off her desk.

"Hurry now. We must make haste," George's wide grin was transparent. Fortunately, the distracted Fitzcharles didn't notice.

"Good luck," Minister Fitzcharles called after the pair as they hustled from Hermione's office. Once they had traveled the length of the hall, George slowed their pace.

"Well done, Harmony…er, Hermione," He smiled. "You took to deception very well, I must say."

Hermione chuckled after catching her breath from their sprint down the corridor: "Well, you better have a good reason for taking me away from my work."

"Oh...I do…" George stated cryptically.

"And what is it?"

"Oi, you'll find out…first we do have to stop by your flat though,"

-o-O-o-

"So are you going to tell me what we're doing at my flat?" Hermione asked once they reached her front door.

"You have to change," George grinned.

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Hermione asked, looking down at her smart pencil skirt, fitted blouse, and sensible ballet flats.

"Nothing…it's very lovely…but you need something that is easier to move in."

"I don't understand you at all, you know that, right," Hermione joked as she let herself into her flat. "Come in George. You can sit tight I suppose while I go change." She purposely rolled her eyes in an over-exaggerated manner to indicate that she didn't appreciate being told what to do without any information as to why she was to do it.

"It's good to see that your flat is back in order," George joked, referring to the pretense he had used to excuse Hermione from work. As George lay across her couch, Hermione hurried into her bedroom to find a more suitable outfit for the unknown activity. Basing her decision on the fact that George was wearing comfy-looking jeans and a worn hooded sweatshirt, Hermione pulled on a pair of faded jeans. She removed her blouse and, keeping on her pale blue camisole, yanked a hunter green, Weasley jumper from a past Christmas over her head.

"So are you going to tell me what you have in mind, George," Hermione asked as she wandered back into the living room. Collapsing into the edge of the couch beside George's feet, she pulled on an old pair of trainers.

"Not yet, Mione," George smiled cheekily.

"Are you going to tell me what that duffle is for?" Hermione continued her questioning while nodding towards the navy blue bag George had been carrying since he had arrived at her office.

"Nope,"

"You're insufferable, Weasley," Hermione laughed.

"I know," George's eyes shone mischievously. Even though she didn't particularly appreciate that way he had just stolen her away from her office without any explanation, Hermione was pleased that George had injected himself into her day. Spending time with the noted prankster was certainly superior to working. "Well…I guess we're ready to leave," George stood and motioned to Hermione to stand next to him. Hermione rose from the couch and George picked up his duffle, tossing it over his shoulder. Looping his arm around Hermione's waist, he muttered the necessary incantation for apparition. Hermione's flat melted into a blur and her stomach churned as the magic whisked the pair away to George's intended destination.

-o-O-o-

"Well, here we are," George mentioned once they had settled onto the ground. Hermione blinked several times and shook her head, working to establish their bearings. The biting cold in the air was a sharp distinction from having just been inside of her flat. The frostiness and the fact that she was standing ankle deep in untouched, fluffy snow indicated immediately that George had taken her outside.

"And where is here?" She asked once her dizziness subsided.

"Just here," George laughed, gesturing over their surroundings with his free arm. Hermione glanced around her, trying to determine their environment. The pair was standing on a snowy bank next to a frozen-over lake. The expansive pond was lined with towering, snow-covered evergreens. Hermione thought she recognized the lake as one that was in a park near the Burrow, but she couldn't be certain.

"What exactly do you have in mind, George?" She asked. George knelt down to remove a couple of pairs of skates from the duffle and she didn't require an answer. "Oh, George…I'm rubbish at skating," Hermione continued. She had always been poor at all winter sports and had never particularly enjoyed any of them. As a child, when her parents had taken her skiing she had always been more content to pass the day in the lodge with a good book than to join her folks on the slopes.

"Not a problem…I won't judge you," George grinned, handing Hermione a clean, white pair of figure skates. "I trust you'll be able to adjust those to your size." Hermione nodded and produced her wand from her beaded bag. Kicking through the deep snow, Hermione reached a log that had fallen near the water that she could use as a bench. Clearing the snow with a simple spell, she perched on the log and slid the too-big skates on her feet. Using her wand and the proper incantation, she adjusted the skates down to a suitable size. As the laces responded to her spell, twisting and fastening into a snug pattern up her ankle, Hermione located her ivory, knit tuque and matching mittens in her trusty bag.

"Ok, I think I'm ready," She spoke hesitantly, after pulling on her winter accessories and insuring that her laces were secure. "Do you think this is safe for us to skate on?" The pond was clearly frozen, but the ice was slightly transparent and Hermione thought she could see water underneath the top cover of ice. There were spots on the pond where Hermione noticed free-standing water and worried that such areas might not be strong enough to bear the weight of a person.

"Don't worry, I got that." George smiled. Walking awkwardly in his skates to the edge of the pond, he knelt down and tapped the surface several times with his wand. Starting from the tip of his wand, the pond gradually turned an opaque whiteness as it solidified into a sturdier sheet of ice. Hermione smiled at the clever spell, knowing that she no longer needed to have qualms about falling through a weak spot in the ice. "Get over here, Mione!" George called excitedly. Gracefully stepping on to the icy surface, he waved to Hermione to join him.

Hermione carefully shuffled several meters through the snow to where George was standing. The scene was quite beautiful – Hermione had to admit – even if skating wasn't her favourite activity. Other than her and George, there were no signs of human presence nearby. The whistles and calls of birds echoed from the tall trees, yet none were visible. A slight mist rose from the perfectly smooth surface and the ice gleamed in the mid-afternoon sun. The whole environment possessed a wondrous stillness.

"Here I got you," George offered, grabbing Hermione's mitten-covered hand in his bare one. Cautiously, Hermione hopped onto the slick ice with George's assistance. She recalled how she used to skate on the neighborhood pond as a child. Then, the ice had been uneven and covered in bumps, cracks, and other impediments. Unlike that surface, the magically induced ice had no undulations. There were no fractures over which she might trip and or blemishes that might make skating difficult. Instead, the ice lay perfectly level and remarkably smooth. Even the snowflakes that fell plentifully didn't stick and ruin the flawlessness of the surface.

"I should warn you again that I am absolutely rubbish at skating," Hermione grinned nervously, worried that George was going to take off at a quicker pace than she could handle.

"No worries, Mione…I'm in no rush," He laughed. Kicking off from the edge of the pond, George drifted to the centre of the ice as Hermione continued to hold tightly onto his hand. The smooth surface was easy to skate over and Hermione found that she was gliding more capably than she ever had on skates. Her magically tightened laces helped keep her upright and prevented her ankles from caving inwards. With George securely holding her hand, the pair slid across the ice. Hermione never felt in danger of falling or losing control. "How's the speed, Mione," George asked over his shoulder as he quickened his pace slightly.

"I'm fine!" Hermione yelled back at him with a smile, maintaining a tight grasp of his hand. She laughed, enjoying both the way the cold air felt blowing past her face as well as the sensation of gaining adrenalin from their ever increasing speed. As they neared the far side of the pond, George turned sharply, whipping Hermione around him. She shrieked gleefully as she accelerated through the tight spin, feeling more excitement than fear from the speed.

"Do you want me to slow down?" George hollered as he started a wide, clockwise loop around the edge of the pond.

"No, no," Hermione shouted enthusiastically. George increased the speed even more and Hermione had to kick the edges of her blades against the ice to maintain his pace. She leaned forward and cycled her legs vigorously, moving faster on skates than she ever had before. Her heart was beating rapidly form the excitement and her face was growing raw from the cold air whisking past her, but she continued to smile, loving the excitement. The swift velocity that George had coaxed them into as they circled the pond caused Hermione's hat to slide to the back of her head. With her free hand she held her hat in place as her legs worked furiously to keep up with George. The tips of her ears started to prickle once they were exposed to the chilly air, but Hermione hardly noticed.

They completed several loops of the lake. Each lap was slightly quicker that the one previous and Hermione's heart beat faster with every completion. Her throat was dry from the cold and breathing started to prove difficult, but she gamely kept skating at her full speed, capably remaining no more than a half-step behind George at all times. Midway through a lap, Hermione felt her mitten start to slip from George's grasp.

"Whoa, whoa…you're losing me," She called out with a raspy giggle, but George had already lost his grip on her hand. Their hold released, Hermione directed herself so that she was drifting to the centre of the ice.

"Oi, sorry about that, Mione," George hurried to catch her. Skating past her, he doubled back and looped her. "How you doing?" He asked, skating around her.

"I'm good," Hermione chuckled, slowly sliding into a halt.

"I don't know what you're talking about when you say that you're rubbish at skating. You seemed to have no problems."

"Well…I've never skated on ice like this…it's kind of perfect," Hermione stopped hunching her back and stood up straightly on her skates, grinning at George. Her face was a vibrant flush, her bright red ears matched the colour of George's hair, and her smile was wide. In the pale light of early evening, surrounded by the natural wonder of the ice and the trees, and with her face aglow from the cold and the activity, she looked stunning, even if she wasn't aware of it.

"Thanks for coming with me," George said, quickly stopping on the edges of his blades right beside Hermione. Hermione chuckled as her skates and the lower portion of her jeans were covered in a spray of snow.

"You do remember that you didn't really give me an option," She laughed in return.

"Oh right," George replied with mock embarrassment. "What do you want to do now, Mione?"

"I don't know…I didn't really have plans for this evening," Hermione replied even though she had intended on working on her House Elf research for the rest of the night.

"Want to come over and have dinner at my place?" George offered kindly and eagerly.

Hermione considered his invitation. She had reached an impasse in her research and dinner with George sounded more appealing than sitting in her chilly flat with a book, even for a self-described bookworm. "Yah, George, that sounds brilliant," She responded eventually.

"That's great," George answered brightly. He, once again, took Hermione's hand in his and the pair skated towards the edge of the pond where George's duffle, Hermione's beaded bag, and their discarded shoes sat. Once they gathered up their things, George snugly wrapped his free arm around Hermione and they vanished in an instance. Other than the pattern of grooves from their skate blades decorating the otherwise unblemished ice, there were no signs that the pair had spent the afternoon enjoying the lake.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I know I said I wouldn't beg for comments, but I lied. Comments are great. If you get the chance follow, leave a note, encouragement or review to make my day! Thanks so much to those who are reading and following this story…especially those who are regularly commenting. So appreciated!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the super kind reviews. This chapter was done early than expected, so here it is!, lucky number thirteen! _

With a loud cracking sound, Hermione rematerialized in the centre of George's living room. She was still grasping onto George's arm with both hands when they came to a gentle thud, resting right beside the largest of George's couches.

"Oh, it's good to see that you've finished moving in," She joked sarcastically once her surroundings came clearly into vision. He hadn't; George's flat still lacked any personal touches other than the massive Puddlemore United banner. The bare walls were still a stark white and the spacious room was sparsely filled. He had, however, arranged his comfy, leather couches around his fireplace and added several end tables. Also, the boxes had been cleared out, making the room slightly more livable. Immediately, Hermione sank into the couch nearest her, enjoying its plush luxuriousness.

"If I knew I was going to have a guest I would have made my place a bit more presentable," George grinned good-naturedly, clearly not concerned by the absence of homey aspects in his flat. Once again, Hermione had to marvel at the grandeur of George's home. She had forgotten about the impressiveness of its size and the magnificence of the large chandelier that hung in the centre of the ceiling. "Do you want to see about putting together a meal or something?" George asked, pointing towards his kitchen.

"I thought that when you invited me over, you already had dinner planned," Hermione giggled.

"No, not at all" – George echoed her laughter – "If anything, I was hoping you'd cook up something for me,"

"That's unlikely, Weasley….but lead the way, we'll see what we can do," Hermione replied pleasantly. Taking off her hat and mittens, she stowed her winter accessories in her beaded bag. Feeling suddenly self-conscious about her haphazard appearance, she removed the elastic from her hair and ran her fingers through the tangled curls, doing her best to brush her bushy locks smoothly over her shoulders. It wasn't particularly flattering, she knew, but she hoped that George didn't notice how messy her hair looked. Fortunately, he was no more presentable. Parts of his shaggy hair stood up at the back of his head and others hung lackadaisically over his forehead. George's face was as red as his hair, but his eyes shone brilliantly and he looked invigorated from their afternoon of skating. Eventually, Hermione rose and followed George out of the living room.

"Erm, what do you have that we could throw together for food, George?" Hermione asked once they entered the kitchen.

"Eh, not much…I haven't gotten groceries in some time," George admitted sheepishly. "Feel free to have a look around,"

The large, stainless steel fridge and the many cupboards were mostly empty, but Hermione was able to locate the requisite ingredients for pancakes. She quickly mixed together the ingredients and turned on one of the oven's burners. Soon the kitchen was filed with warmth from the heat of the oven.

"You're place is ridiculously heated," She said, hoping that her envy wasn't obvious; her flat never felt so toasty. Glancing at George, Hermione noted that he had some time ago ditched his hooded sweatshirt. He leaned forward with his elbows on the high counter in the middle of the kitchen in only his snug white tee-shirt over his worn jeans. The sleeves of his top were tight enough to reveal the impressive muscles of his upper arms and the fabric was flimsy enough that Hermione was sure that she could see his well-built chest beneath the taut material. The sight only added to Hermione's warmth. Instinctively, she pulled her thick, knitted jumper over her head, hoping that George wasn't as aware as she was of the way her pale blue camisole rode up, revealing much of her back and torso when she removed her sweater.

"Hey, George, do you have a frying pan?" Hermione asked, smoothing her top and trying not to feel too self-conscious about being clad in only the flimsy camisole. The temperature was much more comfortable without the bulky sweater.

"Oi, down there" – George pointed at one of the bottom shelves – "I must say it's so lovely of you to come over to make me dinner," He continued with a cheeky grin.

"Don't be so pleased with yourself, Weasley," Hermione jokingly reprimanded. She greased the frying pan and poured several dollops of the batter into it. "You're just lucky that I'm hungry too, otherwise, I wouldn't be so willing to cook for you," She knew that she was making a bigger deal out of her contribution than necessary; after all, the pancakes were easy for her to mix together.

"Mione, I consider myself lucky whenever I get to hang out with you," Even though George chuckled as he spoke, there was a tangible sincerity in his eyes and in his tone. Hermione wasn't sure how to respond.

"Ah, well….do you have any syrup, or anything?" She intentionally changed the subject, feeling a resulting awkwardness from George's kind words.

"Yup, top shelf…" George said, gesturing at the appropriate cupboard with a fork.

"Brilliant," Hermione located the syrup and dug plates and cutlery from the relevant drawers and cupboard. "Here you go, George," She added, flipping most of the pancakes onto his plate. The pair ate, standing next to the island counter in George's kitchen. Hermione happily poured syrup over her pancakes. Even though it was nothing special, the meal was the perfect way to follow the day of skating in the cold.

"Hmm…these are actually really fantastic, Mione," George commented appreciatively between bites.

"Very funny…it's the most basic recipe there is…I would have been able to come up with something much better if you actually had food in your kitchen," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I know…but what with Quidditch, I don't really have a lot of time for shopping. Besides, if I want a decent meal, I'll just go to mum's." George smiled roguishly, his mouth full of pancake.

"Oh George," Hermione sighed. However, she couldn't find fault with her companion's tactic; no one prepared meals more delicious than Molly's.

-o-O-o-

"Here, I got that," George offered, taking Hermione's plate from the counter once they were both finished.

"Thanks George,"

"Considering you did all the cooking, it's the least I can do," He joked in return, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and briefly running water from the tap over them.

"Fair enough" – Hermione chuckled – "Hey do you have tea? I could make a pot if you'd like,"

"Sure…That would be brilliant, tea's just above you,"

Hermione opened the overhead cupboard and easily found George's extensive selection of teas. "Hmmm, for a bloke who has next to nothing in his kitchen, you sure have an impression collection of teas," She laughed, leafing through a carton stocked with earl grays, herbal teas, and green teas.

"What can I say, I like my tea," George chuckled as he dried his hands with a checkered dishtowel.

"And where are your mugs, George?" Hermione asked once she had selected an appetizing sounding herbal tea.

"One cupboard over,"

Hermione opened the cupboard he had indicated and immediately noticed several mismatched mugs on the very top shelf. However, the cupboards were higher in George's flat than in most. Even on her tip toes, Hermione's hand fell well short of the mugs' lofty perch.

"Hey, can you give me a hand?" She asked with a smile to the much-taller George.

"Of course," George shuffled over from the sink so that he was standing almost directly behind her. He idly lifted his hand as if was going to grab a mug, but then seemed to change his mind mid-reach. Abruptly, Hermione was aware of his hand on her hip. At first, his caress was so soft that she could barely feel it over the thick denim of her jeans, but then he rested his hand on her hip and his heavy touch was much more noticeable. Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected, but not unwelcomed, contact. George was standing so close behind her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. "You're amazing," He murmured softly, directly into Hermione's ear as he gently massaged her hip through her jeans.

"Wh-what," Hermione stammered. George's sudden action had taken her aback. She pivoted sharply, coming to face him. George was staring at her intently, his brilliant blue eyes glittering with desire. He was breathing heavily. Acting more on impulse than intention, Hermione reached her hands to George's waist. She rested them barely above the waist band of his jeans and put her fingers through his belt loops. She felt lightheaded as George moved his other hand to the other side of her hip, pulling her closer him. When the fronts of their thighs came into contact, the skin on the back of Hermione's neck bristled and she was suddenly aware of a prevailing dryness in her mouth. Her hands trembled slightly with anticipation as they rested on George's protruding hip bones, but she kept them firmly in place.

"Hermione," George rasped. "I-ah," He didn't complete his sentence. Instead, his hands left Hermione's hips. He moved one to her back, grapping a fistful of the flimsy fabric of her camisole. The other traced a line along her forehead. George gently pushed her curls off her face and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear. He ran his knuckles along her cheek before tenderly cupping her chin.

Hermione wasn't sure if she made the initial move, if George did, or if they moved in unison. Either way, when their lips met, neither tried to restrain the passion. Immediately their tongues found each other, clamoring for position as their mouths came into contact. Unlike the moment on his roof at New Year's, this time, there was nothing chaste or hesitant about their kiss. The feel of his rough and yet still tender lips sent all common sense from Hermione's mind. Both moved frantically: desperate to experience more of the other, needing to explore all of the other's mouth. His kiss had the flavour of sugar. Hermione wasn't sure if it was his normal taste or lingering syrup from their dinner. She decided not to question it and to just enjoy the feel of his mouth on her lips and the sensation of his tongue as it pressed assertively against hers. Questions of what she was supposed to be doing or how she should be behaving faded; she only wanted to lose herself in the moment and in his kiss.

Hermione's heart beat rapidly and she realized that she was breathing heavily and sensed that George was doing the same. George's presence was strong against her as he leaned into her body, pushing her back against the sharp edge of the counter. Needing to get closer to him, Hermione stood on the tips of her toes and strained her neck to better reach up to his mouth. She moved her hands to his head, burying them in the shaggy locks, pulling him down nearer to her. Running her hands through his hair, she felt the jagged scar surrounding his wounded ear. Gently she fingered the ragged flesh, shocked that she found that injury only made him more desirable. The testament to George's bravery and his willingness to sacrifice himself caused Hermione's heart to race even faster and prompted her to kiss him even more furiously. She felt George's arms wrap tightly around her waist, as he aggressively lifted her up snuggly against his chest, deepening their kiss in the same movement. For a moment, her feet were lifted off the ground and only George's grasp and the edge of the counter supported her weight.

"Here," George said in a low, raspy voice. Hermione gasped the moment their lips lost contact, filling her lungs with much needed air. In one swift, easy movement he picked her up and placed her on the countertop. Once she was secure, he leaned into the counter and reconnected their kiss. His hands ran the length of her thighs, occasionally moving to massage her back. Hermione bent forward and wrapped her arms around George's neck, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. She crossed her legs behind his torso, leveraging him tightly against her. Even so, she found she almost had to double forward to kiss him. The height of the counter had brought her too far off the ground.

"The couch?" She asked simply but forcefully, knowing that they'd be more comfortable if they were seated.

"The bed?" He whispered directly into her ear with anticipation and hope in his husky voice. Hermione's skin tingled where his lips brushed softly against it.

"The couch," Hermione forced herself to clearly reiterate, unsure of how far they should let their passions take them that night.

"Ok," George nodded. He looped one arm underneath the crook of Hermione's knees and wrapped the other snugly around her back. Effortlessly, he lifted her off the counter and cradled her in his arms. Hermione curled her arm over his neck while he carried her to the living room. She giggled as he brought her to the couch and sat down with her still in his lap.

"Now, where were we," He laughed rakishly, grabbing her camisole with one hand and caressing the length of her thigh with the other.

Hermione didn't respond with words. Instead she capably located George's lips with hers, hungrily engulfing his mouth as he did the same with hers. She'd experienced other kissed before, but never one so fervent, vigorous, intense, and desperate. George pressed his lips against hers so soundly and filled so much of her mouth with his tongue that Hermione had to struggle to continue breathing. Her mind was clouded and her hands trembled, but she was certain that it was from the passion of the kiss, not the need for air.

"Mmm…George," Hermione muttered, stopping momentarily to catch her breath. Impulsively, she shifted her weight, hoisting one leg over George's so that she was on her knees, straddling his lap. George emitted a soft, delirious chuckle as he eagerly wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist. Once again, Hermione found George's lips. They were rougher than they had been earlier, likely a result of their lengthy and aggressive kissing session. She could feel George's hands roaming up her torso. He easily pushed aside the thin fabric of her camisole, finding access to her bare skin, but respectfully never trying to remove her top. His hands ran along her exposed back, sending a pleasurable current along the surface. Hermione sucked in her breath as his thumbs traced precariously close to her breasts. Pulling his head closer to hers, she pushed back against his lips, kissing him just as fervently as he was kissing her. She moved her hands from his hair to his broad shoulders. Gently, yet firmly, she caressed the length between his shoulders and forearms, enjoying the well-built hardness of his Quidditch muscles that protruded from the sleeves of his tight, white shirt.

Hermione recalled a warning note she had left in her notepad not that long ago – "_Don't snog blokes you're not actually involved with" _– but hastily disregarded her own heed. As it so often does, the temptation of behaving rakishly easily beat the suggestion of behaving rationally. Instead of pulling away and putting an end to their exchange of passion, Hermione allowed herself to become enveloped by desire and acted upon it in the way she had longed to ever since she had seen George's bare torso at the Burrow. She continued to pursue George's lips, loving every second that they were on hers. His touch grew exceedingly pleasurable and she shivered with delight as his hands explored the entirety of her uncovered back. His calloused hands were rough, but the friction only added to Hermione's enjoyment.

"Hey George," Hermione eventually broke their kiss. Her lips had been rubbed raw by the kiss and the skin of her face was chapped from George's coarse stubble of a beard. "Do you think maybe you'd want some of that tea now?" She was out of breath from the kiss. Also, she knew that she had to put a stop to the physicality; otherwise, she wasn't sure where it would end.

"I can think of something I want more," George grinned roguishly and replied in a husky voice. His eyes centred on her greedily as he tenderly rubbed the exposed skin on the back of her shoulder.

"I, ah, think it's time for tea," Hermione responded reluctantly but definitively.

"Sounds good," George's smile was good-natured as he secured a grasp on Hermione's waist to pick her up off of his lap. Covered with beads of sweat, her clothes and hair fully disheveled, Hermione slowly rose from the couch and ambled clumsily into the kitchen. Her coordination suffered as her head was still swirling with pleasure, giddiness, and confusion. There was no question, she realized, that George was just as attracted to her as she was to him. That fact was undeniable in his kiss, in his touch, and the way he had been so keen to hold her against him. As Hermione waited for the tea to finish steeping, she leaned against the counter to catch her breath and combat the dizziness that George's kiss had induced. She sighed, unsure of how she ought to proceed from that moment forth.

_Author's note: Please let me know if you think I've violated the T rating and I'll edit accordingly! The last thing I want to do is offend anyone. Also, if anyone has a good breakdown about what is suitable for a T rating that would be very appreciated for later chapters. I don't want to change the rating mid-way through because I worry that be unfair to some readers and I also don't want to violate the T rating._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Not mine. Also, thanks for the advice on the rating. I've basically decided to treat it like a pg13 movie since I think I have a pretty good understanding about what is allowed for that. But please let me know if I cross any lines! Thanks – SJ _

"So how was hanging out with George yesterday," Holly excitedly interrogated Hermione first thing in the morning of the following day at work.

"Oh, it was alright," Hermione responded coyly, looking up from her desk at her intrigued coworker standing in the doorway of her office.

"Oh, what did you do?"

"Well we went skating…then had dinner at his place," Hermione listed noncommittally.

"And?"

"And" – Hermione grinned shyly but with a hint of cheekiness – "And then we snogged for about half an hour," She finished, smiling bashfully while also biting her bottom lip. Unsurprisingly, Holly's shrieks and squeals were loud, high-pitched, and ecstatic.

"I knew it," Holly proclaimed defiantly. "I even told Klara. I basically guaranteed to her that you two were going to end up snogging. I can always tell….it's like a gift."

"Ok," Hermione chuckled at her friend's excitement, finding it amusing but also appreciated.

"And then?" Holly asked with anticipation in her voice.

"And then" – Hermione repeated – "We had tea and I left. I knew I needed to get home to get up in time for work."

"You didn't shag him?" Holly sounded disappointed.

"Ah, no," Hermione gave her friend a pointed look. "You know that's not really my style."

"True" – Holly laughed self-deprecatingly – "You're not me….so, what's the deal now. Are you two in love? Shall I start planning the wedding?"

"I, ah, actually, I don't really know what the deal is," Hermione admitted sheepishly. She and George had exchanged a sweet goodbye kiss before she had hopped into his fireplace to return to her flat, but they hadn't discussed what the night had meant. Hermione felt as if she had no more knowledge about his intentions towards her than she had prior to their kiss.

"Hmmm" – Holly murmured while she entered Hermione's office. Pulling the stool next to Hermione's desk, she perched on it carefully – "How's that?" She simply asked.

"I don't know," Hermione speculated. "It's a bit odd, I suppose. I don't know if he has actual feelings for me, or if he was just…you know…"

"Looking for someone to get off with,"

"Basically," Hermione blushed at her friend's forwardness. Holly never shied away from speaking frankly, which was why Hermione knew that her coworker was the perfect person with whom to talk. Normally, Ginny would be her chosen confidant, but Hermione didn't particularly want to burden her with the romantic dealings of her older brother.

"So you guys didn't talk about it or anything?" Holly asked.

"Nope," Hermione shook her head ruefully. She wished that she had been confident enough to seek clarification from George regarding the meaning of their kiss, but her nerves had failed. Hermione chuckled to herself. It was curious how romantic matters so often seemed more intimidating than true danger: something that she had always handled very capably. Warding off a troll, managing a giant, withstanding torture, or dueling with Death Eaters should have been the things that left her fearful, not discussing the meaning of a kiss with a bloke.

"Did he want to shag you?"

"I think so," Hermione's face acquired a deep flush when she recalled how George had suggested that they take things to the bedroom.

"Hmm…What do you want?" Holly continued her line of questioning. "Do you want to see him again?"

"I suppose so," Hermione mulled, knowing that she did, indeed, want to see him again and recreate the previous night.

"Well…perfect. Klara and I are having dinner at the end of this week with Keith and Oliver" – Holly mentioned, referencing her and Klara's respective significant others – "You and George should join us. It's just going to be quiet…dinner at the Cauldron,"

"I don't know if I should…contact him the next day? Wouldn't that make me look a bit daft?"

"No, not at all,"

"I wouldn't be coming across as overeager?"

"Nope…If anything, he'd probably appreciate it…for all you know, he's wondering the same things right now,"

"I don't know" – Hermione faltered – "What if he has Quidditch?"

"He won't…Oliver is on the same team, remember…and he can make it," Holly coaxed. "Just invite him…the worst that can happen is that he'll say no."

"Exactly," Hermione exclaimed, slapping her palms on the desk.

"None of that, Mione," Holly chided lightheartedly. "Just send him a note. It will be fun." Without awaiting a reply, Holly stood from the stool and left Hermione's office, leaving Hermione to consider her colleague's suggestion.

Impulsively, Hermione reached into her desk drawer and located a scrap of parchment. Hesitating with her feather quill over the page momentarily, she soon jotted down a quick note:

"Hey George, I'm having dinner Friday with some friends from work. Would you be interested in coming too? – Mione," She wrote in her small, neat printing. Before she had an opportunity to change her mind, she rolled the parchment into a tight scroll and tapped it twice with her wand. Tiny, gold wings grew rapidly from the centre of the scroll. Vibrating to the point where they were almost unseen, the parchment floated off Hermione's desk, out the office, and down the corridor. Hermione had sent it to the owlry, from where it would be delivered to George's. For a moment, Hermione leaned back in her chair and sighed. With a quick shake of her head and after rubbing her eyes with her fists, she returned to her editing. It was all she could do; the decision now belonged to George and her only participation in the matter was waiting.

Silently, Hermione continued to make countless red marks across page thirty-eight of her stack of parchment. She did her best to become absorbed in her editing rather than worrying about George's potential response. Crossing out a superfluous word in the last line on the parchment, she was about to turn the page when a glitter of light in the corner of her eye distracted her. Hermione glanced up and noticed that a small scroll had hovered into her office. Unlike inter-office correspondence, which all flew ably on tiny, gold wings, this scroll was supported by slightly larger, vibrant scarlet wings: an indication that the letter was from an outside sender.

With trembling hands, Hermione clumsily unfastened the seal on the scroll and spread the parchment flat upon her desk. She hastily read the note scribbled across the page in George's large, upright printing:

"Mione, that sounds great. I'll see you then – George,"

Her heartbeat continued to fill her ears as Hermione carefully re-rolled the parchment into a scroll and stowed the note in her beaded bag. With a slight smile, she realized that she was very much looking forward to dinner with George. Even though they'd be in a group rather than alone, she welcomed the opportunity to spend more time with the Weasley twin.

-o-O-o-

Friday arrived sooner than Hermione had anticipated. The week felt as though it flew by. Every moment that wasn't occupied with work, Hermione devoted to her House Elf research. She was certain that she was running out of time. The proposed legislation would become law sooner than she would like. Even more frustrating, however, was the fact that she had no clue how she'd make a difference. All she had, thus far, was a haphazard collection of notes, most of which weren't even helpful to the cause. After returning to her flat for a half-hour of reading, Hermione realized that she should probably get ready for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron.

Hastily, Hermione pulled one of her favourite dresses over her head; the same one she had worn the night she, Holly, and Klara had ran into George's Quidditch team at the Leaky Cauldron. The dark, royal blue dress was simple but it suited her. The dark blue, she knew, heightened the golden flecks in her brown eyes. Its cap sleeves were casual, but the way it tied at the back helped highlight her narrow waist and gave the dress a certain flirtatious quality. Impulsively, she grabbed the velvet box off her dresser that contained the diamond earrings that George had given her. Securing them in her ears, she wondered if George would notice that she was wearing his gift. Even if he didn't, she liked the way the perfect stones glittered vividly from her earlobes. Realizing she didn't have enough time to satisfactorily tame her hair, Hermione pulled her golden brown curls into an easygoing knot just behind one of her ears. She completed her look by sliding on a pair of ballet flats and left her building.

-o-O-o-

The Leaky Cauldron was starting to get crowded by the time Hermione arrived. Fortunately, her coworkers had already claimed a large table at the back of the establishment.

"Hey Mione," Holly lively greeted her as Hermione slid into a chair across the table from the blonde.

"Hey, Hol," Hermione returned. She immediately noticed the absence of both George and Oliver but didn't want to appear too eager by asking about them.

"Mione, you remember Keith, right?" Klara asked, shrugging towards the man sitting next to her. Hermione nodded; she easily recognized the svelte, quiet man in glasses, having met Klara's long-term boyfriend sometime ago.

"Oliver and George are on their way," Holly informed her.

"Oh, that's nice," Hermione smiled and tried to keep her tone controlled, hoping to hide her excitement over the fact that George would soon be there. Even though George had sent confirmation regarding his attendance, she had still been concerned that he might not actually make it to their dinner. She clearly needn't have worried, however, as only moments after she had sat down, the tavern's front door opened and George and Oliver strode into the establishment. Hermione couldn't help but admire the way the cut of George's button down shirt flattered him and the way the muted blue colour accentuated his eyes.

"How's it going?"

George and Oliver exchanged pleasantries with those already present at the table as they claimed seats. George took a spot next to Hermione while Oliver sat beside Holly.

"How are you, Mione?" George asked politely if a little formally. Hermione immediately noticed that Oliver had greeted Holly with a quick but affection kiss, whereas George hadn't made any physical contact with her whatsoever. She regretfully wished that this was not the first that she and George had seen of each other since their lengthy snogging session several days prior.

"I'm fine. Yourself?" She asked in a strained voice. As George responded that he was doing well, Hermione shuddered slightly at the realization of just how pronounced the couples at the table were; it truly was a triple date. She glanced at Keith and Klara who were holding hands on the table and at Oliver who had his arm around Holly, and felt painfully aware of the distance between her and George. While there was no chill between them, they still sat awkwardly upright in their side-by-side chairs. Neither reached for the other's hand or allowed a leg to stray and come into contact with the other's under the table. Silently, Hermione chided herself for thinking that a group setting was the wisest choice for her and George's first post-kiss interaction.

Thankfully, a waitress soon approached their table to take orders and Hermione was able to focus on the menu momentarily. Once the waitress finished with the orders and disappeared to another section of the tavern, conversation at the table began to pick up. The Quidditch league was started the following weekend and everyone was keen to hear George and Oliver's take on how their team, Puddlemore United, would fair. Oliver was more reserved about their chances, but George unabashedly declared that the team would finish first in the league.

"George is pretty excited about being part of the English league," Oliver laughed at his teammate's unhidden confidence.

"I sure am," George returned his smile. "Don't get me wrong, Egypt was fantastic…Cairo was brilliant…but I'm pretty glad to be back in London….and on the team that's going to take the league," He said with a brash laugh as he and Oliver gleefully slapped palms across the table.

"We'll get'em next Saturday, right Weasley," Oliver smiled, referring to their opening game of the season.

"You know it, Wood…I'm already calling an absolute rout," George grinned confidently.

Hermione had to chuckle; George's self-assurance was attractive. Also, she knew that Puddlemore United was scheduled to play their first game against the Hollyhead Harpies: Ginny's team. As George, Holly, and Oliver excitedly discussed, in great detail, the strengths and weaknesses of the upcoming season's Puddlemore United squad, Hermione intently listened. While Quidditch was something she did not have a great knowledge of and something about which she had never quite understood the fuss, it was amusing to see how animated George was over his team and the sport. The red head's cheeks grew flush and his smile was wide as he eagerly explained to Holly how the team defence was significantly stronger than it had been in the past; something Oliver accredited to George having joined the team. As their waitress returned with their food, Hermione keenly kept up with her companions' conversation, even though she actually only comprehended a small fraction of what they were discussing.

"Oh Mione," Klara suddenly exclaimed, interrupting Hermione's concentration on Oliver's predictions for Puddlemore United's first game. "I almost forgot to tell you…there's been new development with the House Elf legislation."

"What! What is it?" Hermione almost shrieked, turning in her chair to face Kara.

"Well…the law might be on the back burner for a bit…which is great…I guess it's not seen as top priority or anything…the debate's been scheduled for the end of this session."

"So that won't be until almost summer, then," Hermione quickly calculated. She breathed a sigh of relief; the law wouldn't have the opportunity to come into place for a much longer time that she had initially anticipated. Her research needn't be as rushed. "What does this mean exactly? For my involvement and everything?"

"Well...the Ministers will discuss it and vote on whether it should become law…but they'll also hear from interested parties. And I asked around, and because of that club you started in school-"

"SPEW," Hermione excitedly interjected.

"Right, that one…" – Klara continued – "Because of your involvement with SPEW, you'll be able to be considered an interested party..."

"Are you serious? That's bizarre, I haven't done anything with SPEW in years…it was just a failed club I tried to start when I was still a student," Hermione replied incredulously as she idly poked her chicken curry with her fork.

"I know…It's a really low standard. Especially on an issue like this one where there are so few who want to have the opportunity to talk on it. I, ah, actually wouldn't be surprised if you're the only one who will be speaking against the law," Klara informed her matter-of-factly with a slight, rueful shake of her head.

"Ok" – Hermione gulped – "So I'll be able to just stand up in front of all the Ministers and make the case that this law is unjust…and I'll be the only one who is doing so,"

"I'm afraid that's what it looks like," Klara responded sympathetically. "Anyway, I managed to pull a few strings and got you on the docket…but, just so you know, at most, you'll probably only get five to ten minutes to talk…"

"So I'm going to have to do the most with the time I have then," Although Hermione's voice wavered, she spoke defiantly. "That's brilliant Klara, thanks so much," Hermione said appreciatively; she knew she wouldn't have been able to make such strides without her friend's superior connections.

"You're going to do great with this, Mione…I just know it,"

"I really hope so" – Hermione swallowed contemplatively. Her mouth felt unexpectedly dry and she licked her lips before continuing – "I'm really going to have to get going on this…I have no idea what I'm going to say,"

"What you're going to say about what, Mione?" George interrupted good-naturedly. Hermione glanced at her other companions at the table and noticed that Holly and Oliver were very absorbed in their own conversation, leaving George on his own.

"Oh…ah…it's something with work" Hermione answered nondescriptly, recalling that Klara had warned her to keep the House Elf legislation confidential.

"It's alright Mione…you can tell him," Klara encouraged before turning to talk with her boyfriend, Keith.

Recognizing that she was essentially left alone with George, Hermione cleared her throat and started to explain her situation. "Well…there's a new law…it's, ah, not exactly public knowledge," She paused, grinning as George nodded to indicate that he appreciated the need for discretion. "And it's about House Elves and it's not very progressive," Hermione concluded lamely, unsure about how many detail she ought to disclose.

"House Elves…that's something you really care about isn't it, Mione?" George asked in a tone that conveyed a sincere sounding concern.

"It is," Hermione was surprised that he had remembered; fifth year and her SPEW campaign had been a long time ago.

"So, this law...it's pretty bad?" He questioned intently.

"It's compete rubbish," Hermione tried to muster a smile. "I really need to get it chucked out."

"Do you need any help?" George asked earnestly.

His response surprised Hermione. Neither of the twins had been particularly supportive of SPEW during her time at Hogwarts. If anything, they had used her enthusiasm for the subject as a reason to tease her. "Really?" She questioned skeptically.

"Of course, I mean, if it matters to you, obviously it's pretty important." George's response was accompanied by a kindhearted grin.

"George…that's so great. I don't think there's anything you can do, but thanks for the offer."

"Ok…well keep me informed," George's crooked grin and genuine seeming offer made Hermione's heart beat a bit faster. She turned her focus to the remainder of her dinner to hide the flush that had arisen on her cheeks. Fortunately, at the same moment, Oliver pulled George's concentration away with another Quidditch-related topic. The group of six young folks continued to chat amiably throughout their dinners. Occasionally, Hermione found herself solely in conversation with George. With relief, she discovered that she was capable of maintaining a normal and easygoing repartee with the young man whom, only several days prior, had ravaged her lips raw with his own. Neither brought up the incidences of George's kitchen and his couch, but as he asked her questions about her House Elf research, Hermione had to smile over the fact that their succumbing to passion seemingly hadn't compromised their friendship.

-o-O-o-

The group of young witches and wizards left the Leaky Cauldron once they had completed their dinners. The evening air was crisp and Hermione wrapped her ivory shawl around her shoulders a little bit tighter.

"What the game plan now," George asked with an eager smile.

"Ah, well we have to leave," Klara gestured at Keith.

"Yah, sorry, mate…I think Hol and I are going to take off too," Oliver playfully punched his teammate in the shoulder.

"Well…ok…I'll see you guys at work," Hermione commented while she hugged her two co-workers goodbye. Their companions went their separate ways, leaving George and Hermione standing alone on the walk in front of the tavern.

"Why's it that couples are always so eager to head in early?" There was something rather naughty about George's suggestive grin. "Well…I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to call it night…want to come over for a bit?"

"Umm…ok, that sounds great," Hermione responded sweetly, impetuously deciding to accompany George back to his place.

"It's a couple blocks over…are you ok with walking?" George asked with a friendly smile. Hermione shivered slightly from the cold, but nodded regardless. They wandered along the lane towards George's residence. Hermione had never seen his place from the outside before, but wasn't surprised – recalling the breathtaking view from his roof – when George pointed out the tallest building in the perimeter. In silence, they continued along the walk in the direction of George's building.

-o-O-o-

"So what do you want to do?" George asked flirtatiously, lounging back on his couch once he and Hermione had entered his flat. Hermione bit her bottom lip and grinned, knowing what George was suggesting. Despite her better judgment, she lightly sat down next to him on the couch. Hermione giggled as George took her legs and pulled them over his lap. His hand swept the bare skin of her calves before stopping and settling firmly on her knee. "You know, you're looking particularly gorgeous tonight," He muttered, resting his forehead against hers and pushing aside a few stray tendrils of hair that had escaped their knot.

"You are too," Hermione replied coquettishly as she gentle fingered the collar of his blue shirt just above the top button. She scolded herself for how she allowed her heart to flutter at the sound of his rich voice, knowing just how susceptible she was to his sweet compliments. He moved both his hands to her face where he gently caressed her cheeks, chin and ears. In no time, his lips had found hers and they quickly resumed the passion that they had experienced only several days prior. Hermione assertively placed both her palms on his chest before moving them to his upper arms. Once again, she had to appreciate how strong his arms and shoulders felt beneath her touch. Even though she was hardly gentle in her massaging, there was next to no give from his firm muscles. She felt George's capable and purposeful hands on her back. As he easily pulled her more securely onto his lap, she shivered with excitement. Hermione's enjoyment only increased while she and George continued to kiss passionately. Her mind clouded and she released all her thoughts, allowing herself to become completely engulfed by the physicality of the moment.

"Hmmm…Hermione,"

Hermione had no idea of how much time had passed when George withdrew his lips from hers, interrupting their kiss. "What is it George?" She asked.

"I hate to do this….hate it so much" – He grinned winningly – "But I have Quidditch practice very early tomorrow morning…and I should probably get more than…oh…five hours of sleep before running laps first thing," He said, looking at his watch. Hermione grabbed his wrist to have a glance at his timepiece, gasping when she saw the hour. She hadn't been aware how long they had been on the couch.

"Oh that's fine, George…no problem…I have to get up rather early too so I understand." Even though she had been granted more time to do her House Elf research, Hermione was keen to go to the Ministry library to do her work.

"I'd rather….stay here…with you….you know…that," George replied between soft kisses on Hermione's cheeks, nose, and forehead.

"That sounds nice, but I should let you get to bed," Hermione rose off his lap and stretched her limbs which had grown cramped from sitting in one spot for so long.

"I'll see you around, Mione," George nodded to her as she climbed into his fireplace, ready to return to her flat for the night.

_Author's Note: Wow, this was an oddly dialogue heavy chapter… If you get the chance follow, leave a note, encouragement or review to make my day! Thanks so much to those who are reading and following this story…especially those who are regularly commenting. So appreciated!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I'm really nervous about the upcoming chapters. They were probably the toughest to write yet. I hope I captured Hermione's personality ok. _

"Oi, Gilbert….what is it?" Hermione called to her pet owl who was tapping furiously on her bedroom window. She knew that Gilbert would be unable to hear her through the windowpane, even if he was capable of understanding the English language, but she was unwilling to get out of bed. It was still early in the morning and her bed was invitingly cozy.

The week following her dinner at the Leaky Cauldron had been uneventful for Hermione. She had hoped that she would have gotten a chance to see George, but his team had doubled up on practices to prepare for their first match and she was overwhelmed with work. Consequently, they hadn't had an opportunity to see each other. Throughout the week, Hermione had contemplated sending him a quick note or swinging by his flat to say hello, but decided such action would be unwise. After all, she was still unsure where exactly their relationship stood. She wondered if he would try to contact her, hoping perhaps that she might receive an owl from him during her work day.

However, he obvious had similar qualms as she, as Hermione hadn't heard from him since leaving his flat after dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. "_Hopefully that's all it is,_" Hermione thought ruefully one day at work. During the days after their extend snogging session, she had oscillated between thinking that he genuine cared for her to convincing herself that he was simply bored and feeling amorous. There was a nagging sensation in the back of her mind that kept suggesting that George wasn't corresponding with her because he simply wasn't that interested in her. The way he had casually told her that he'd 'see her around' when he had said goodbye wasn't particularly reassuring. "_What if he's not interested?_ _Just because you've snogged, doesn't mean he thinks anything of you. What if you're not worth the effort? What if he's only looking for a quick shag? What if you're nothing more than the first girl he's encountered since returning to London? What if you're just one of many girls he's been snogging?" _A series of distressing possibilities would often pester her when would allow her mind to wander at work. "_Snap out of it, Hermione. Don't be so needy and pathetic," _Her more rational side would always reprimand her flightier side. "_You're the smartest witch your age…don't get derailed over a silly bloke." _ Too frequently at work, her internal debate would continue along such similar lines; occasionally her flightier side would prevail, but more often her rational side would be victorious and she would be able to shake off George-related questions and focus on her editing.

As her Gilbert continued to peck on her windowpane, Hermione groaned. It was Saturday and she wanted to sleep late. Her intention for the day was to stay and work in the Ministry library, hoping to discover useful information that she may have previously missed for the House Elf debate. However, knowing that she didn't have to deliver her speech until the end of the Ministry session, she was looking forward to using the morning to catch up on some much needed rest. Begrudgingly, she threw off her lavender duvet and clamored out of bed and across her room to see what her tiny owl wanted. As she strode across the room, her mind frustratingly landed on George and she regretfully acknowledged that she fervently wanted the letter to be from him.

"Ok, Gilbert…let's see what you got," Hermione said aloud, opening her window for the small bird. As Gilbert hopped into her bedroom with a small envelope tied to his leg, she tried to shake off the anticipation that her owl might be delivering her a note from George. After all, he hadn't contacted her all week; there was no reason to believe that he would be trying to get a hold of her now. Nevertheless, Hermione's sigh was with tinged with disappointment when she immediately recognized Ginny's distinct printing on the envelope.

Unsealing the envelope, Hermione pulled out a small scrap of parchment.

"Mione, hope you can make it," Ginny's note simply stated. Hermione reached into the envelope and found a stiff, rectangular piece of paper. "Puddlemore United vs. Hollyhead Harpies" was emboldened across the rigid paper in large, block lettering. Hermione chuckled; it was just like Ginny to invite her to her game on the very morning of the match. Even though watching Quidditch wasn't her ideal activity, she recognized that attending the game – and cheering on two of her closest friends – was superior to bunkering down in the library for the day.

Taking her time, Hermione got ready for the match and prepared herself a large breakfast of eggs, toast, and fruit. Quidditch matches often lasted all day and she didn't know when she'd have another opportunity for a decent meal. Not wanting to appear partial to either team or either friend, Hermione found her most neutral top, a grey tee shirt, and pulled it on over her dark, slender-fit jeans. George's team sported bright red and the Harpies were represented by burgundy, so Hermione figured that the grey safely conveyed that she didn't favour a particular team. Of course, her shirt choice wasn't overly pertinent, as she completed her outfit with her warmest parka and matching blue tuque, mittens, and scarf. The stadium was open to the elements and the London air was still chilly.

-o-O-o-

The grounds surrounding the Quidditch stadium were packed with people and buzzing with noise by the time Hermione wandered in from the nearest established apparating zone. Even though the game didn't start for close to an hour, the gathered fans were excited and many were already in the midst of cheers and songs supporting and celebrating their particular side. Hermione wondered how early some of the fans had shown up as – based on exuberance and intoxication – it seemed that many must have been there for some time. The Quidditch league was extremely popular with witches and wizards living in London and in the surrounding area, and many were eager to kick off the season. Drifting past the Butterbeer drinking supporters who were congregated outside of the stadium, Hermione continued into the large arena. She trekked up the nine flights of cement stairs to find her way to the seat Ginny had reserved.

"Oh hey guys!" Hermione joyfully exclaimed when she got to her seats. Harry and Ron were already settled in the same row. Hermione immediately noticed that Lavender was seated next to Ron. She couldn't be certain, but Hermione thought the pair might be holding hands. Unlike Hermione, Harry hadn't shown any restraint in wearing the colours of Ginny's Quidditch team. He was dressed almost entirely in the Harpies' burgundy: his scarf, shirt, and hat all boasted the Harpies' emblem. On one cheek, he had drawn a haphazard '4' in burgundy paint: the number Ginny sported on the back of her jersey. Ron, however, was not obviously supporting either team.

"Hey, I'm so glad you're here," Harry responded happily as Hermione sat down next to him.

"Yah, good seeing you, Mione…" Ron added, leaning across Harry to greet Hermione.

"Ginny wasn't sure you'd be able to make it," Harry said after Hermione exchanged pleasantries with her two dear friends and tersely said hello to Lavender, who woodenly returned the greeting.

"Well…she only invited me this morning," Hermione laughed. "So I suppose there could have been a very good chance that I wouldn't have been able to make it,"

"That's Gin for you," Harry chuckled in fondness for his fiancé.

"Yah, I had to keep pestering her to even get these tickets for me and Lav," Ron commented with a laugh.

"I haven't seen you in forever, Mione…what have you been up to?" Harry asked intently.

"Ahh…not much. Work I suppose," Hermione faltered. She didn't want to tell him that the most noteworthy event since she had last seen him had been her and George's recent snogging sessions and the fact that she had been preoccupied by thoughts of the handsome Weasley twin. Harry had always maintained that his two best friends should end up together. Even after she and Ron had broken up, it had taken some time before Harry was willing to admit that Hermione and Ron were unlikely to reconcile and become a couple again. Hermione wasn't sure how he'd react to the information that she had moved on to Ron's older brother. "What have you been doing, Harry?"

"Just Auror work," Harry replied amicably. "Spending time with Teddy…hanging out with Ginny, of course…"

"So, who are we cheering for here?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, hoping that she was successfully disguising that she was considering cheering for George's team.

"Harpies obviously," Harry responded with a wide grin.

"I just want to see a bloody good match," Ron answered vaguely. Hermione recalled that he was an ardent supporter of the Chudley Cannons, a different team in the same league.

"I don't care," Lavender shrugged, tossing her long, honey blonde hair over her shoulder. Hermione thought that Lavender seemed to be more interested in the contents of her large, bright pink purse than the conversation of the others or the prospect of the match. It was understandable, Hermione supposed; after all, the trio of her, Harry, and Ron must be rather formidable for an outsider. Hermione had to concede that it was admirable that Lavender had come along at all. She hoped that his relationship with their former classmate was making Ron happy.

"Who are you supporting Mione?" Harry asked intently, interest shinning from his emerald eyes.

"Ah, I don't know…is it possible for me to cheer for both Ginny and George?" Hermione replied. She was certain that her voice strained over George's name in a tell-tale way. "Actually, I think I'm going to cheer for Ginny's team," She hastily continued, eager to hide the fact that she would have reason to favour George. "Hey, where's Teddy, Harry?" Changing the subject seemed, to Hermione, the most prudent option.

"Oh, he's at the Burrow. All the other Weasley kids are there and he wanted to hang out with his cousins," Harry smiled proudly. Hermione returned his grin. Few things made her heart lurch with happiness as definitely as her dear friend's love for his tragically orphaned godson. The fact that he referred to the youngest Weasleys as Teddy's cousins only caused Hermione's smile to widen and a deeper warmth to fill her chest; She, Harry, and Teddy had all found an adopted family in the lovable and welcoming Weasley clan. While they waited for the match to begin, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made effortless conversation. Hermione found herself grinning broadly throughout their chat; there was nothing quite as special as spending time with Ron and Harry.

"Oh look, the teams are coming out!" Ron shouted enthusiastically as a loud cheer erupted from the stadium bleachers. Hermione stared at the field and saw tiny figures on broomsticks begin to stream onto the pitch from opposite entranceways at ground level. The players quickly rose to a higher elevation and Hermione was able to see each individual more clearly. As the teams completed laps of the pitch, Hermione easily picked out Ginny. Her long, bright red pony-tail made the petite Chaser almost impossibly to miss. George was tougher to spot. After scanning the teams several times, Hermione finally noticed him. His bright red hair was covered by a protective cap, but she recognized him by his casual posture on his broom. George flew capably, often dipping around or doubling back to complete complicated maneuvers. Frequently, he would stop and hover in the air to talk one of his teammates. Hermione smiled despite herself; the lackadaisical approach to warm-up was so like the easygoing twin. Peering through the hyper-magnified glasses provided at her seat, Hermione took a closer look at George. Even though he was sitting relaxed on his broom and grinning widely, the intensity in his eyes still registered. Hermione could tell that, even if his demeanor seemed exceptionally laidback, he was keen on winning the upcoming match.

Hermione glanced at her two dear friends beside her. Both Harry and Ron were on their feet, shouting loudly and clapping exuberantly. Both the loud roar of the crowd and the smiles Ron and Harry wore were infectious and Hermione found herself caught up in the excitement, standing and cheering along with the rest of the supporters. She didn't recognize the organized cheers and choreographed songs that would erupt from the different sections of the stadium, but she yelled along regardless, even though she hadn't yet decided which side to support.

Soon, the teams retreated to their respective sides. The captains met at half-pitch to shake hands. The game balls were released into the air. The game was underway. Harry leaned over to provide Hermione with his running commentary. The information that he provided didn't much help her to better understand the game, however, as all Harry wanted to discuss was the plays that Ginny was completing. Hermione did her best to keep track of the match, but found it difficult. There was so much action on all corners of the pitch at any given time that Hermione wasn't sure what was going on or even which team had the advantage. For the most part, she simply took her cues from the stadium bleachers. When the red-clad, Puddlemore United supporters would explode into cheers and gleeful yells, she assumed that George's side had succeeded. Likewise, when the sea of burgundy buzzed with excitement, she guessed that Ginny's team had scored points or completed an impressive play.

Hermione centred her magnified glasses on George, trying to keep up with his fast moving pace. His previous laidback attitude had faded entirely. The George she watched didn't wear a nonchalant grin and his blue eyes didn't twinkle with mischief. Rather, he was steely and intense. He flew with purpose, zipping through intricate patterns with his teammates as he determinedly swung his bat to ward off the large Bludger ball, preventing it from obstructing the paths of other Puddlemore United flyers. At one point, one of the fast-moving balls hit him squarely in the side. Hermione gasped, but George seemed to shake off the contact of the large Bludger. He didn't even alter his path or pace. Hermione wasn't exactly sure what his role in the game was and didn't want to raise suspicions by asking about him, so she just watched him, impressed by his confidence. As the game continued, Hermione tried to focus on the game, chatting occasionally with Harry about the state of the match.

-o-O-o-

Hermione figured that the two teams must be fairly evenly matched because the game lasted well into the afternoon. Harry told her the length was more likely due to the fact that both Seekers were still rusty at the start of the season, preventing either one from ably locating the Golden Snitch and bringing the game to an end. That the match lasted for hours didn't seem to bother any of the supporters. Despite its length, the entire bleachers maintained excited and energetic cheers throughout the match. The noise buzzing within the stadium never seemed to subside. As late afternoon approached, Hermione started to recognize many of the songs that the fans frequently repeated. Often she would join in with Harry, loudly singing in support of Ginny's team. Soon her voice was hoarse, her face was red, and much of her hair had escaped its braid. She had long since removed her parka; the energetic cheers, jumping repeatedly in place, and the heat from the other supporters rendered the extra layer unnecessary. Knowing nothing about the sport didn't prevent Hermione from enjoying the day. The atmosphere was too electrifying and the other supporters were too amusing for her to become bored. Looking past Ron, she noticed that even Lavender seemed to be swept away by the entertainment.

"What's happening?" Hermione squealed excitedly as the noise in the stadium grew to a deafening ring.

"Puddlemore's Seeker has spotted the Snitch," Harry yelled into her ear. Hermione tried to keep up with the play, but it was moving too fast and she grew lost on what was happening. The confusion was short lived, however, as the side of the stadium supporting Puddlemore United soon exploded into ear-shattering, joyous yells and screams.

"Did he get the Snitch?" Hermione shouted at Harry even though she knew the answer.

"Yup…guess that's the game," Harry sighed with disappointment. "Not a bad showing, I suppose…"

"Ginny played great," Hermione said reassuringly, even though she didn't have the knowledge to make such a claim.

"Hmm mmm, we should go find her," He replied with a smile. Hermione glanced around the stadium; the Puddlemore United fans were still in the stands, celebrating their victory, but most of the Harpies' supporters were already filing out to the exits.

"Alright," Hermione grinned. She hadn't seen Ginny since the engagement party and was eager to see her dear friend. Together, she, Harry, Ron, and Lavender made their way out of their row, to the outer part of the stadium, and down the many flights of cement stairs.

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading. Bit of a filler chapter, but, don't worry, I'm taking the plot somewhere [And I know where that is!]. Leave me a comment, review, or encouragement or follow my story if you'd like to make my day awesome! Thanks! _


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading!_

After climbing down the nine flights of stairs, avoiding the fans loitering on the stairwells, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Lavender finally reached the ground level of the Quidditch stadium.

"Ok, follow me," Harry directed, leading them through the labyrinth of tunnels surrounding the pitch. "Ginny told me to meet her just down this hall…I guess the visitor's team room is down this way," He added as they walked through one of the cement-lined corridors.

"Are we allowed down here, Harry?" Hermione questioned. Unlike the rest of the stadium, the corridor Harry was leading them down was not filled with fans.

"Oh yah, it's fine…Ginny said I could bring you all down here." Harry nodded. Hermione wondered if Ginny expressly had permission to let them into the restricted section of the stadium, or if their presence was allowed simply because it was Harry who was involved. Hermione knew that many in the wizard community were still willing to give concessions to the Boy-Who-Lived. She didn't ask for clarification, however, as she knew Harry didn't appreciate having his celebrity status referenced.

Pushing open a double, red door at the end of the hall, Harry let them into a stark, well-lit room. The room was mostly empty; Hermione figured that lots of Ginny's teammates had been eager to leave the stadium following their loss.

"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" Ginny shrieked as they entered the room. "Oh, hi Lavender," she tacked on as an afterthought. Regardless of the defeat, Ginny still seemed her typical buoyant self: her smile was still bright, and her eyes still gleamed with delight.

"You played great, Gin," Hermione said fervently, scooping her friend into a secure hug.

"Thanks, Mione. It wasn't fun to lose, but we're feeling pretty good about our performance." Ginny replied flippantly, giving Hermione an extra squeeze around her torso.

"Should we find George…congratulate him on the win?" Ron suggested looking apologetically at Ginny after all had exchanged greetings and hugs.

"Alright," Hermione replied far too quickly. Fortunately, Ginny and Harry spoke their agreement at the same time and Hermione's over eagerness went undetected.

"Puddlemore's room is just across the hall," Ginny commented. The five young witches and wizards returned to the corridor. Harry was ably lugging Ginny's large, burgundy bag of Quidditch gear over his shoulder: something that struck Hermione as irrefutably sweet. When they knocked on the door to Puddlemore United's room, Matty – George's teammate who Hermione had met at the Leaky Cauldron – opened the door.

"Hey, Weasley's friend!" He exclaimed, grinning down at Hermione from his impressive height. As seemed to be his habit, the large man immediately pulled Hermione underneath his heavy arm, holding her close to him.

"Er, hello Matty," Hermione said, her voice muffled by Matty's grip. The looks of puzzlement on her friends' faces were easily apparent, but Hermione didn't offer an explanation for why she already knew George's teammate.

"Have you come for me, Weasley's friend?" – Matty joked loudly to Hermione – "I'm still pretty beaten up over loosing that blonde friend of yours to Wood."

"Erm, no," Hermione replied succinctly. "We've come to see George,"

"Oi, I should have known…all these gingers…gotta be Weasleys," Matty shouted with a guffaw of laughter. While the large, young man was loud and often crass, Hermione liked him regardless. He was friendly and she was sure he only meant well with his overt flirtation.

As Hermione and her friends walked into the team room, Matty yelled out to George: "Hey Weasley…you have visitors!"

"Eh, what's that, Matty?" George called from one corner of the room. He was seated on a faded, brown couch with Fred and Angelina. Hermione noticed that the Puddlemore United team room was much fancier than the room Ginny's team had been using; a fact she attributed to the stadium being the Puddlemore United's home stadium. A billiards table stood in one corner and several couches were set up around the room. Plenty of team posters and massive banners liberally adorned the otherwise stark, white walls. George, Fred, and Angelina had claimed one of the couches in the corner while the rest of George's teammates were spaced around the room. "Oh, hey guys," George approached his siblings and friends while Fred and Angelina followed close behind him, hand in hand.

"Good game, George," Ginny grinned good-naturedly, greeting her older brother with a warm hug.

"Thanks, Gin…you too…I was struggling to keep up with you all game," George jovially returned his little sister's smile and hug. As the Weasleys and their friends exchanged greetings and hugs, Hermione thought perhaps that George let his hands linger on her lower back longer than necessary, but wasn't positive. Angelina whisked her into a quick embrace before Hermione was able to assess if there were extra sparks between her and George in their hug.

"Well…we have to get back to the twins," Angelina commented before she and Fred left. Ron and Lavender soon followed.

"We should go too…Teddy's going to be waiting for us…Gin and I promised we'd spend the evening with him," Harry said hesitantly.

"Did you want to come with us, Mione?" Ginny added kindly.

"Ah, I don't think so, Gin. I might just stay in, get some work done," Hermione shrugged apologetically. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Harry and Ginny, she sensed they wanted some family time with the young boy, who they both viewed as something of a son. Also, playing house with two of her best friends didn't strike her as the best way to pass the evening. After a quick exchange of hugs and goodbyes, Ginny and Harry exited the room, leaving Hermione alone with only Quidditch players.

"So, how have you been Hermione?" George asked pleasantly in a quiet voice after all his siblings had left.

"Er…I've been-" Hermione started to answer before she was interrupted by a yell from the other side of the room.

"Hey Weasley, we're all thinking of going for drinks…you coming with?" Matty shouted from next to one of the billiards tables. He was in the midst of a game with several other players.

"Ah, I don't know," George said with a laugh. "Are you up for hanging out, Mione? I'd rather hang out with you than the blokes," He turned to Hermione, asking her quietly with a wide smile. His bright blue eyes were impossible to resist. Even though Hermione had been disappointed with his lack of contact throughout the week, she knew she wanted to go with George.

"Erm, sure…that sounds good," Hermione muttered, aware that a flush had arisen on her cheeks.

"So no drinks then, Weasley?" Matty asked.

"No, I think Hermione and I are going to do something together," George grinned.

"Yah…that sounds smart…you should probably go with that one, Weasley," Matty said appreciatively in a boisterous voice, glancing all along Hermione's body in a way that made her admittedly uncomfortable. She was sure that all the Puddlemore United players, intrigued by Matty's loud comments, had turned to look at her and George.

"Ok, want to head out, Mione?" George said. Hermione nodded silently and they started to leave the room. Near the doorway of the room, George stooped to pick up his large, bright red duffle from the stack of identical bags and swung it over his shoulder. Hermione thought he might have winced while he was hoisting it. If it did bother him, he didn't let it affect him. George seemed capable of carrying his large bag as the pair silently wandered out of the room and into the cement corridor.

-o-O-o-

"Well…you remember my flat, right?" George asked with a playful laugh as he and Hermione entered his home. "Make yourself comfortable." He remarked gesturing towards the living room. Wandering into the impressive living room, Hermione sighed happily before sinking into his comfortable, leather couch.

"You should join me, George," She instructed with a giggle, knowing that she was being more flirtatious than necessary.

"Will do, one sec," George followed her into the living room, still carrying his large, red duffle bag. He pulled the strap off his shoulder and bent over to set the duffle on the floor behind the couch, grimacing as he did. "Oh damn…Godric that smarts," He muttered, his hand immediately going to his side.

"What is it George?" Hermione asked caringly, peering over the back of the couch to look at George.

"Ugh" – He groaned, stumbling to join Hermione on the couch – "I took a good one in the side…possibly cracked a rib, but our trainer thought he fixed it," Wincing noticeably, George tentatively leaned back into the couch, holding a cushion to his chest. From his pained expression and the way he was sitting uncomfortably, Hermione was certain that he was still suffering from the injury. She recalled that during the game George had gotten hit exceptionally hard by a speeding Bludger and assumed that was the moment when George had been hurt. "I'm guessing he didn't completely fix it…or perhaps I just reinjured it," George added with a strained laugh.

"Can I do anything to help?" Hermione asked. "Maybe get you a hot beverage or something," She continued feebly, knowing that wouldn't be of any benefit to George.

"Hmm…how are you with healing breaks, Mione? Do you think you could fix my rib?" George asked hopefully, his brilliant blue eyes centring squarely on her.

"Ahh…I don't know…I probably could," Hermione hesitated.

"Probably?"

"Well…I theoretically know how to set a bone," Hermione expanded with a wavering laugh.

"Hey, that works for me," George grinned widely. Moving falteringly, obviously favouring his left side, he pulled his pale blue, tee shirt over his head, leaving his entire torso exposed.

"Er, ah," Hermione stuttered. She could have tended to George's wound through his thin top, but refrained from suggesting that he put his shirt back on. Locating her wand from her beaded bag, Hermione shuffled along the couch so that she was right next to George. She rested on her knees and stared intently at George's naked chest. His upper body was speckled with an impressive collection of bruises, all of various shades of purples, blues and blacks. The one he had suffered that day was a particularly vibrant red, having not yet started to bruise. "Oh sweet Merlin, George...what has happened to you," She muttered quietly at the sight of his marred skin.

"Oi, just an expected byproduct of playing Beater…not really a problem…and the girls love it," He grinned rakishly. Hermione gulped and felt her cheeks flush and the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

"And that makes it all worth it, I suppose?" She tried to echo his laidback tone.

"You tell me." The flirtation in George's voice was undeniable.

"Ok, just sit still, Weasley," Hermione directed, not wanting to address George's comment. She paused before placing a hand on the spot on the side of George's upper body where he had been hit that day. His skin radiated heat. She could easily feel the remarkable muscle definition of his torso and bit her lip as she gently rubbed the section of his skin that had turned red from the hit. "Hmm…where's it bothering you?" She asked her voice husky as she pushed a bit harder against his flesh.

"Ah…right there," George winced.

"Ok…here goes," Hermione said determinatively. Directing her wand at the point he had indicated, she muttered the necessarily healing charm. Slowly exhaling, she hoped fervently that her spell had worked.

"Oh Merlin, Mione…you are so brilliant," George's smile was one of relief. "That feels so much better."

"You better not just be saying that…Let me know if I messed it up entirely," Hermione commanded with a chuckle, glad that her charm had apparently been a success.

"No, this is perfect…you're a miracle worker," George laughed, rotating from one side to the other, testing out Hermione's healing capabilities. "I can't feel it at all, thank you,"

"Hopefully that means it worked," Hermione chuckled self-consciously. Now that she no longer had a task to complete, Hermione was suddenly very aware that she was sitting incredibly close to the still-shirtless George and that he had made no motion whatsoever to grab his pale blue top that was still lying in a crumbled heap on his coffee table. She gulped, knowing that she should remove her eyes from George's exposed torso, but not quite willing to: his shoulders were so impressively broad, his chest muscles so defined, and his arms so obviously strong. The bright blue waistband of his boxer shorts peeked suggestively over the top of his jeans in a way that made Hermione's mouth feel dry and her heart pulsate furiously. He lounged casually against the back of his couch, seemingly without an iota of reservation regarding his half-naked state.

"Well…get over here," George uttered roguishly. He wrapped an assured arm around Hermione and pulled her into his lap. Despite her better judgment, Hermione readily complied with his direction, twisting so that she was seated across his legs. Before she was fully cognitive of the moment, his lips were on hers, kissing her eagerly. Even as she leaned in to reciprocate his kiss, Hermione knew that she should behave better. She knew she should put a stop to such silliness and discuss her feelings with George. However, George's taste was intoxicating and questions of should began to melt away as Hermione returned his kisses, willingly allowing the intensity between them to increase. She shivered with pleasure as his tongue sought hers. Entwining both his arms around her, he held her securely against his exposed chest, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his bare skin through her flimsy, grey tee shirt. His hands were on her back, gently caressing her skin through his top. Hermione placed her own hands behind his neck, nervous about what would happen if she let herself explore his bare skin.

As Hermione started to become lost in the movement, her head grew mired with desire and her inhibitions were rapidly dissolving, pushed away by the pleasure of George's touch. George's kiss was maddening and his touch was intoxicating; Hermione wanted to forget everything and only focus on enjoying their moment. However, her notepad warning – "_Don't snog blokes you're not actually involved with" – _worked its way back into her conscious. Before she could hastily disregard the pestering voice of reason, she recalled her frustration from the days following her and George's most recent kiss. She remembered how much it had hurt to consider the possibility that George had only interested in her because he wanted someone with whom to fool around. She thought of the way she had wrestled with herself over his potential motivations for his actions.

Hermione could feel George's free hand exploring her body. She shivered as he easily pushed aside her tee shirt and ran his fingers along the uncovered, delicate skin of her stomach. Her sensitive skin tingled at his unexpected touch. His hand covered the entirety of her stomach and trailed up her side, onto her back, before returning to her stomach. Hermione trembled as he neared the waistband of her jeans. She sucked her breath in as he slowly let the tips of his fingers drift just below the band. The gesture was slight, but it caused something within Hermione to snap her back into reality. It was such a blatant attempt to increase their intimacy and it only served to confirm Hermione's suspicions that George was only acting on purely physical motivations. Breaking their kiss she glanced into George's face, immediately perceiving the overwhelming desire and need in his expression.

"Ahh…George," Hermione spoke hesitantly, pausing their interaction. "What are we doing here?" She asked expectantly with a hint of exasperation in her tone.

"Ah, Mione…we're snogging and it's pretty fantastic, if I do say myself," He laughed and leaned in to reconnect their kiss.

"No, George…" Hermione interjected, halting his movement by lifting two fingers to his lips. She propped herself into a seated position, shaking George off of her and quickly adjusting the hem of her shirt so that it covered the skin that George had exposed. He perched on the edge of the couch, a confused look clouding his angular features. "That's not what I mean…I mean…what are we doing?" She tried to emphasize the sentence in such a way as to convey her true meaning. "Me and you…what's going on here between us?"

"Ah well…" – George sat up a bit straighter – "I guess we're enjoying each other's company…having fun."

"Having fun," Hermione frowned and repeated his comment. It wasn't what she had been hoping to hear. She felt a pang of discomfort echo through her chest. His laissez faire response only confirmed her disconcerting suspicion that he was only interested in her for physical reasons. She sighed disappointedly, certain that the reason he hadn't contacted her all week was because he simply figured that she wasn't worth the effort.

"Yah…I'm having fun. Aren't you?" George asked in his typically laidback way.

"Well yes" – that fact was undeniable – "But-but, I-I…ah," She wasn't sure how to voice her dissatisfaction with the simplistic nature of his response.

"What is it Mione?" George reached over and gently stroked her shoulder while adopting a concerned expression.

"Well, what do you mean by that," She hoped the pleading in her voice wasn't palpable.

"We're enjoying each other's company…having fun," George replied, grinning in his aggravatingly attractive crooked fashion. "Is that not ok? I don't understand why this is a conversation we need to be having,"

"You don't?"

"No, why can't we just carry on as we have been? I've been having a great time and I thought you were too…I always thought that's what matters," His smile revealed his teeth and he continued to rub Hermione's shoulder seductively.

Hermione paused, uncertain about what she ought to say next. "_Think of how eager he was to take you to his bedroom," _Her more rational side mentally advised. "_He likes to flirt. He likes pulling lots of girls. He's most likely just looking for an easy shag?" _

"George, did you just invite me back because you want to shag me?" She asked nervously.

"Well, of course I want to shag you…I'm a bloke and look at you, you're gorgeous," George grinned a little too casually for Hermione's liking given the weight of their conversation.

"Really…I don't know, George…" – Hermione eventually voiced – "I don't know…I wonder if I should just leave...Maybe that would be best," She frowned, knowing it wasn't the most coherent answer and reaction to the situation, but feeling that it was what was necessary. She wanted time to be alone, to be able to reflect on everything on her own. Staying at George's, she was certain, would only result in an argument or a scenario that would leave her feeling hurt and used.

"Mione, you don't have to leave…" His tone was sincere but not desperate.

"George, I think it's best if I just go," Hermione tried to force a smile, but knew that she failed. She glanced at George and saw him looking back at her with doubt flooding his brilliant blue eyes. Hermione hurriedly jumped up off his lap and snatched her beaded bag off the coffee table. Without giving him a chance to prevent her from leaving, she grabbed a fistful of bright green, Floo powder from the ceramic bowl he kept atop his mantel and leaped into his fireplace. In a flash, she disappeared.

_Author's Note: Don't hate me for having there be a fight. It was tough for me to write, but it felt necessary. Leave me a quick comment or follow the story if you'd like to make my day awesome! Sorry I haven't been responding to each individual comment. For some reason I get a computer error when I try to, but know that I appreciate all of them! _


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I hope no one's mad at me for last chapter. I decided to post this chapter really soon so people couldn't be upset with me for too long over last chapter. I think this was the hardest chapter for me to write yet. I went through about three versions of it and I think this is the most satisfactory, so I hope everyone likes it! _

Hermione stumbled out of her fireplace still feeling awash with lingering frustrations and disappointments from her conversation with George. She raced to her bedroom, still stung by the words with which George had left her, and immediately pulled off her jeans and tee shirt and found a comfortable pair of flannel pants and an old camisole. Feebly, she climbed into bed and pulled her duvet snugly around her, feeling foolish about all George-related events. It wasn't like her to so willingly snog and begin to fall for a bloke with whom she was not officially involved and who evidently didn't have feelings for her.

"_I guess we're having fun," _He had said. _"Having fun._" She wasn't entirely able to articulate why his simplistic explanation had left her feeling so empty, but knew that his wasn't a satisfactory response.

"It's because you deserve more than someone who just wants fun," Hermione spoke aloud to herself as she lay curled up in her bed. "If he doesn't see that, he's not worth your time," She spoke definitively to the corners of her bedroom even though she wasn't entirely sure she believed the sentiment. "Now, you're going to ignore that prat, go to sleep, get up early, and get lots of work done….no harm, no fowl," Her tone was defiant and convincing. Hearing the reassurance, even if it was only she who spoke it, already made her feel a bit better about the events of the evening.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

Hermione hadn't even been in her bed for five minutes when a loud voice rang through her flat, shocking her out of her contemplation. She jumped out of bed, with her lavender duvet still wrapped around her, and ventured into her flat to see what had made the commotion. Unsurprising, George was climbing out of her fireplace. George had managed to put on his shirt again before coming over, but his hair still looked messy from their moments of passion and his lips were noticeably chapped. His face was flushed and his expression was anxious.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" Hermione asked blatantly, without greeting him and with a touch of distain in her voice. She wasn't particularly prepared to see George. Nevertheless, she didn't tell him to leave and instead sunk into her comfortable recliner. Sitting like a cat with her legs tucked underneath her, she rested her head against the arm of the recliner while her blanket continued to envelope her.

"I'm terribly sorry to barge in like this. But, I had to see you Hermione," George replied immediately. "It's important. Can we talk?"

"I suppose,"

In several strides, George claimed a spot on Hermione's couch. He sat on the side of the couch closest to Hermione's recliner and looked at her with undeniable intensity in his bright blue eyes and she remembered distinctly why she had such an aggravating tendency to be flustered in his presence.

"You didn't think I wouldn't follow you after you ran out on me like that?" He asked sincerely.

"I am sorry about that George…But you have to see, it made sense," Hermione contended. While her hasty exit had been rash, she still was certain that it was the appropriate action.

"Well, of course it did. I would have left a git like me in the lurch as well" – George responded quickly with a wry chuckle – "I don't know what I was thinking, Mione. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you were right. We were just having fun. The moment it stopped being fun, I should have left," Hermione muttered, hoping she didn't sound overly bitter.

"That's not exactly what I meant when I said we were having fun," George said quietly, his blue eyes saturated with care. He didn't lean against the back of the couch as he normally might; instead he sat erect, maintaining eye contact with Hermione, an expression of concern darkening his features.

"Then what did you mean?" Hermione questioned exasperatedly. His easygoing take on their situation had seemed pretty clear only a short while ago.

"I don't entirely know. You do realize that you caught me at a moment when my head was elsewhere, right," George's embarrassed-looking grin caused Hermione to chuckle despite her prevailing confusing and frustration. "The thing is…I am having fun. I didn't anticipate having fun…with you…in this way. You see, this is all rather a shock to me…a very unexpected and very pleasant shock…I didn't expect connecting with you in this way…I never would have guessed that I would have started falling for you the way I am…"

"Falling for me?" Hermione exclaimed, lifting her head off the arm of the recliner and sitting up a little straighter. "George…I-I…" She stammered, unsure how to process George's seemingly about face. She had gone from believing that he wasn't interested in her at all to discovering that he was falling for her in such a brief amount of time. It struck Hermione as rather confusing. "I didn't know…" She abruptly finished without completing her sentiment.

"Of course you didn't know. How could you when I'm acting like a prat and telling you that I just want to have fun with you and letting you leave my flat without putting up a fight," – George grimaced – "I felt like rubbish the moment you got into the fireplace."

"I'm sorry,"

"It's not your fault."

"But you told me you just wanted to have fun….and…and…to-to carry on the way we were…" Hermione added skeptically, trying to recall the exact words he had uttered.

"Well, yes…but we were snogging on my couch, of course I wanted to carry on in that way," George laughed and Hermione felt a soft blush arise on her face.

"I thought you were just interested in me as an easy shag," Hermione voiced quietly.

"W-what? That's daft…" George chuckled. "I never viewed you as just an easy shag. I know you better than that…I know that you're worth more than that." He continued in a quieter voice.

"But you didn't try to contact me…" Hermione simply stated the fact without accusation in her tone.

"I wanted to," George smiled guiltily.

"You did? They why didn't you?" Hermione resumed her straightforward questioning.

"Well...I didn't know if you wanted me to…I didn't know if you wanted to get a hold of me or if you would rather just ignore everything that happened between us…and then when you didn't contact me either, I was certain that you wanted nothing to do with me," George replied in a flustered manner that was very unlike his typical detached confidence. "

"I didn't even think of it in those terms…" Hermione speculated. He was right that she hadn't tried to contact him either, but bringing attention to the fact didn't particularly make her feel better about the week of frustration.

"I thought maybe you regretted everything…and that's why you were so keen to leave. This entire time, I've been wondering if you've been feeling guilty or stupid or something about snogging your best friend's older brother…"

"That's not-"

"Hermione," George interrupted with a gulp. His expression was earnest. "The thing is, you see…I'm not very good at this, Hermione…I'm actually quite rubbish at all this," George frowned and idly rubbed a non-existent speck off the sleeve of his snug, pale blue shirt before continuing "Hermione…You have to realize…This is all very new to me…I'm not used to things being serious…I'm more accustomed to just having fun…But it doesn't mean I don't care about you…" He aggressively ran a hand through his hair, causing his shaggy locks to stand on end. Hermione was so used to seeing George so confident and laidback, but, based on his anxious ramblings, she had to wonder if he was, perhaps, not as self-poised as she had originally assumed. "When I said we were having fun, I didn't mean it as an insult or to put you down or to discredit what was happening between us. I said it because it's the truth…I've been having so much fun getting to know you."

"So, you didn't mean you wanted nothing else to do with me other than snogging?" Hermione asked expectantly.

"No, Hermione." George rapidly continued. "I'm sorry you thought that…I suppose I didn't do much to convince you to think otherwise…but I'm not just interested in you as a snog buddy or as an easy shag. You're more than that…You-you're brilliant…clever…compassionate…gorgeous…and yes, you are a lot of fun to be around…and…and…I guess what I'm trying to say…very inarticulately, evidently…is that I like you…I like you very much." Once again, George rumpled his bright red hair as he came to the end of his bumbling declaration. He sat in stillness on Hermione's couch, his only movement the gently drumming of his fingertips on his knees. Hermione sat up perfectly straightly and stared at him momentarily, taken aback by his compassionate sentiment.

"I didn't know," Hermione responded in a stunned whisper, shocked that her impression of the situation had been so wrong. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I should have, but you left before I had time to think everything through….I guess your question took me by surprise…you're taking me by surprise! But I should have told you this far earlier," George replied apologetically." I just didn't want to ruin everything. I've been really happy with what's happening with us…and not just the snogging…everything," He grinned. "I've been such a prat," He cursed himself under his breath.

"You haven't," Hermione said, even though she had mentally called him a prat several times since she had climbed into his fireplace. Hearing his explanation already helped her feel better about the evening's events. She realized that she had probably overly-hastily reacted to his comment. Talking it through with him was informative, helpful, and reassuring.

"I have…I've been such a prat. I'm just so rubbish at all this," George reiterated. "It's no surprise that I've never really had a girlfriend."

"You haven't," Hermione tried to hide the surprise in her exclamation. She had always assumed that the handsome Weasley twin was very popular with young witches.

"No…I mean, not like a real girlfriend…not anything that's been serious…I haven't even ever brought a girl home to the Burrow." George said slowly, almost as if he was only realizing the fact for the first time as he said it aloud. "I guess, I've always just been so busy…with the shop…playing Quidditch. And I was in Egypt for the past few years. The team and the blokes kept me so busy, there wasn't a lot of time for, you know, forming relationships."

"Hmm…" Hermione replied considerately.

"Yah…and you've met my family…you know how they can be…how Mum can be."

"That's true," Hermione smiled. She could imagine how intimidating it would be for the younger Weasleys to bring new friends back to the loud and bustling Burrow. Angelina had told her that it had taken close to a month before she had felt entirely comfortable surrounded by the tight-knit Weasley clan. Both Mrs. Weasley and Ginny – as friendly and good-natured as they generally were – could be, at times, rather skeptical of and imposing towards the Weasley men's new girlfriends. New girlfriends, Hermione knew, could expect thorough interrogations from the Weasley matriarch and youngest. Hermione still felt for Bill's wife, Fleur, and the lengths through which she had gone before being fully accepted by the Weasley family, particularly the Weasley women.

"I know…and you…" George continued, breaking Hermione's concentration. "It's all the more complicated with you involved…you're a favourite of the family…and you're one of my oldest friends. I can't bugger this up…if I do, I'll lose a friend. If I hurt you, I'd feel like rubbish…and…and….it's just all very complicated. I mean, what about Ron…what if he hates me for going after his old girl? And Ginny…she's your best friend…" George rambled, in a way completely unlike his usual easygoing manner. "What if she doesn't approve of me making a play on her friend? Fred would have a fit if I screwed this up…Ang adores you…And Harry…Harry...he'd never forgive me if I hurt you…" George paused, mulling over the concept.

"George," Hermione tried to interject, smiling at George's charmingly befuddled demeanor. George continued regardless.

"And think of what it would do to Mum. Do you know how poorly she took your breakup with Ron? She was completely crushed. I think she already had 'Hermione Weasley' penciled into the family book. Could you imagine what it would do to her if once again she thought she'd get you as a daughter, only to have me make a mess of everything?" He looked at Hermione with pleading in his eyes. "You see, it's all very complicated…you're not just some girl-"

"Whoa…George…" Hermione interrupted his constant stream of concerns. "Ah…George…maybe we're over thinking this…" She suggested, suppressing a chuckle; generally she was on the receiving end of suggestions to not to over think. "Maybe we don't focus on your family right now…what if we started slow instead of getting ahead of ourselves?"

"Start slow?"

"Exactly…there's no need to get ahead of ourselves."

"That sounds manageable," George's crooked grin radiated relief

"Brilliant…because George…" Hermione hesitated, needing to find the proper words. "I quite like you too, George," She eventually voiced, both assuredly and yet cautiously.

"You do?"

"Of course I do," Hermione responded. His display of insecurities had taken her aback. She had always seen the Weasley twin as so cool, so cavalier, so confident. It was enlightening to discover that he was just as insecure and awkward in regards to relationship issues as most. Hermione was comforted to discover that he was evidently plagued by the same doubts and confusions that she had been battling ever since their first kiss; it wasn't just she who had been worried and stressed. The pair paused and stared self-consciously at each other for some time before either spoke.

"Really?" George asked eventually. "I had no idea…" He added quietly.

"You didn't? The snogging wasn't a giveaway?" Hermione teased relieved that the tension and the awkwardness between her and George had started to subside.

"It doesn't always mean something,"

"Well, It does for me…and I do…I quite like you," Hermione chuckled.

"Brilliant," George breathed happily. "So how do you propose we start slowly with this thing between us?"

"Ah, maybe just spend some time together?"

"Brilliant," George reiterated. "So what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Library," Hermione answered hastily. Even though things were cleared up between her and George there was no reason to let him derail her plans.

"Well, what are you doing right now?"

"Just sitting here with you, I guess." Keeping her duvet wrapped around her, Hermione crawled out of the recliner and joined George on the couch. She gently laid her head on his shoulder as he entwined his arm around her. Neither spoke, neither made a move for the other's mouth, neither tried to make the moment about something other than just sitting in stillness. Hermione liked it that way. She enjoyed the feel of his arm around her, the sound of his breath, and the gentle undulations of his chest underneath her. George gently stroked her shoulder through her duvet. His touch contained no seductiveness; it was only out of reassurance, a representation of their nearness. Hermione sighed gratefully, pulling her feet beneath her and letting her head fall heavily against George's shoulder. Finally, there was a peace between her and George. The questions with which she had been battling fell away and were gradually replaced with comfort, security, and tranquility. The evening that had earlier taken such a frustrating turn was finally perfect.

_Author's Note: AHHHHHH….I really hope everyone liked that chapter. I'm super nervous about it. I hope that I managed to clear everything up ok. I'm particularly nervous about George's character. I hope people didn't think I made him out of character in this chapter. I think that I have a fairly good understanding of what I'm doing with George's character and from my point of view what he's doing make sense. But I worry that I'm not communicating him quite right…that I'm making him too laidback…too much of a prat, etc…it's difficult to convey his character when I'm writing only from Hermione's perspective and I worry I'm making a mess of it. Drop me a comment if you'd like. I really appreciate it. If anyone has concerns, PM me and I'll try to address them._


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! _

The library was as good as empty when Hermione walked in through the glass doors exactly two minutes after the building had opened. George hadn't stayed late the night before. She had told him that she needed a full night's sleep in order to be in the library first thing, refreshed and prepared to study. When he had left, he had chastely kissed her goodbye and hugged her tightly. Hermione figured that intense snogging sessions would have to wait for some time until both felt comfortable with the other's feelings. While she missed the feeling of his delicious lips and skillful hands, she knew it was for the best. Taking things slowly allowed them to get to know each other in a way that wasn't merely superficial.

Most of the Ministry librarians still looked sleepy and displeased about having to be at work early on a Sunday. However, a few nodded at Hermione in recognition. Hermione knew that she was one of the most consistent patrons of the large Ministry library. She wandered up the tapestry-lined, spiral staircase, at one edge of the building, stopping when she reached the fourth floor; the level of the library where books and texts relating to Magical Creatures were housed. As she strolled along the all too familiar, relevant rows, she gently fingered the outer bindings of the books without really paying attention to the titles or actively seeking applicable texts. She had already spent so much time perusing the exact same bookshelves without any luck in the past that it was becoming difficult to remain hopeful about her project. The hours of unhelpful work she had done were beginning to feel like an exercise in futility.

"_A Lesson in Development: How our Nation was Built on the Backs of House Elves_," Hermione muttered aloud, reading the title off the rough, hard cover of a book that she had pulled from the top shelf. Idly flipping though the book, she sighed; the author was clearly in favour of retaining House Elves as a worker class. Discouraged, Hermione tucked the book under her arm, nevertheless, thinking that perhaps she might be able to find some useful antidotal evidence in its pages. Absentmindedly, she grabbed several other texts that she had already been through and added them to her stack. There always could be information that she missed on her first read through.

"_House Elves: A Questionable Genealogy…Dignity in Duty: The House Elf Wish to Serve…The Wizard, The Witch, The Natural Order, And our Intrinsic Right to Subvert Lesser Species for our Favour," _Hermione shuddered at the blatant prejudices contained in some of the titles of the books that she pulled from the shelf and carefully balanced against her hip with her free arm.

"Hmm…what's this," Hermione mumbled, noticing a very slim stack of parchment held together by three staples. "_House Elfs are People To_," She read the typewritten text off the front page, frowning at the obvious errors and the unsophisticated notion expressed by the title.

"Ugh, figures that the first pro-House Elf literature I find could have been written by a first-year," She internally groaned. "Well, I ought to still cover all my bases," She thought, placing the thin, book-like object on her stack of texts. Slowly, Hermione ambled out of the rows of shelves and towards the centre of the building. She easily found an empty table and placed her stack of books atop it. The library was deathly quiet; Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if she was the only one occupying the fourth floor. Sighing, she pulled a chair up to the table and sank into it. Leaning on her elbows and letting her face rest heavily in her hands, she stared at her books momentarily.

"You can do this, Hermione," She murmured to the emptiness. She reached into her beaded bag and located a stack of fresh parchment and her favourite feather quill. Grabbing the nearest book, she opened it to a random page. Muttering a curse under her breath, she started reading. She knew that her heart wasn't in the right place that morning and that she was growing exceedingly discouraged with what was starting to feel like a Sisyphilian task. Glancing up from the page, she furiously shook her head, causing her messy curls to cover her face. Pushing her hair back, she willed herself to focus. "I know you can do this, Hermione." With a deep breath, Hermione turned to the table of contents of her book, knowing that if she was going to do research for the day, she ought to do it right. Flipping to a relevant chapter, she started reading thoroughly while scribing detailed notes.

Hermione didn't know how long she had been working, but figured it was about mid-afternoon when she heard heavy foot steps behind her. With a jolt of shock, surprised that she wasn't alone in the library, she turned to see who had joined her. Sucking in her breath, she instantly recognized the intruder who was confidently striding down one of the aisles of books.

"George…w-what are you doing here?" She sputtered far too loudly for the library setting.

"I wanted to see you,"

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I talked to Oliver, who talked to Holly, who talked to Klara, who figured you'd be here," George laughed. "I thought you might need a break…so, what say you, can I treat you to lunch?"

"That would be brilliant," Hermione smiled. George was right: she did need a break. Her vision was becoming fuzzy and her head was clouded with the information she had been retaining all morning. Giving her head a quick shake and stretching out her cramped limbs, Hermione eagerly jumped up from her chair. Leaving her stack of books on the table for the librarian to file away, she gathered her notes and stowed them in her beaded bag.

"Are you ready to go?" George asked with a grin. He promptly slid his free hand into Hermione's and gave it a slight squeeze. As they wandered towards the spiral staircase, he didn't remove his hand from hers.

_-_o-O-o-

After leaving the Ministry library, Hermione and George located a nearby café and filled in, still hand-in hand. The café was one of Hermione's favourites. It was remodeled from an old heritage house and, as a result, was exceptionally cozy. Unique artwork and oil paintings covered the earth-toned walls and a large collection of odd knickknacks and keepsakes were arranged on various bookshelves that were scattered throughout the café. The smell of baking always filled the establishment, likely because they made all their own bread on location. Claiming one of the empty, circular tables near the large bay window at the front of the café, George raised two of his fingers to catch the attention of one of the servers who was idly leaning against the main counter. Lazily, the server sauntered across the small floor of the café to take their order. Hermione stared intently at the narrow, plastic menu, still feeling unsure about making eye contact with George. After their waiter left with their order, George and Hermione sat in silence for some time. The awkwardness was palpable, but it wasn't overly uncomfortable. Ever since the previous night and George's abrupt declaration of his affection, many of Hermione's misgivings had been alleviated. She was feeling far better about the situation than she had in some time. Any remaining unease wasn't accredited to confusion about their arrangement or concerns that her feelings were unrequited, but from the knowledge that he was equally smitten with her.

"Ah, so, what is everyone going to say about…this" – Hermione cautiously remarked motioning between her and George – "Your family….how do you think they'll take it all."

"Oh Merlin…I don't know," George chuckled self-consciously. "I've been playing over different scenarios in my head, and it literally could go so many ways."

"They could be really happy," Hermione said positively.

"They could…" George speculated.

"Or they could be really skeptical, or really unimpressed, or really disappointed, or really disapproving, or really unpleased," She continued, the optimism fading from her voice with every item on her list.

"They could be all of those things," George replied.

"Ah…do you think it would be best if they just didn't find out…for the time being at least," Hermione suggested with a guilty smile. She was sure that lying to his family was not ideal for George, but given the circumstances, thought it might make the most sense.

"You mean not tell them?" George asked mischievously.

"Well…maybe," Hermione carefully responded.

"What about Fred and Ginny?"

"I don't know, do you think we should tell them?"

"No" – George laughed boisterously – "I'm guessing those two are the worst to tell." His amusement was infectious and Hermione found herself echoing his laughter with chiming giggles of her own.

"I know. They would get so far ahead of themselves," She said through her giggles. In her mind, Hermione could easily imagine the way Ginny would pester her for details, wanting to know far more than appropriate regarding her relationship with George, Ginny's older brother.

"Oh Merlin. Fred can a bit intrusive when it comes to me and girls. Ever since he got married, he's been giving me such a hard time about settling down. With you involved, he'll be infinitely worse," George shook his head ruefully but good-naturedly.

"And your Mum…she'd-"

"She'd have a fit," George finished her thought. "And I'm not sure in a good way or a bad way to be entirely honest."

"So maybe just keep this to ourselves?" Hermione suggested.

"Until we've figured everything out," George agreed as their waiter returned with their lunches. Hermione smiled instinctively as she picked up her roast beef sandwich. A secret affair just seemed so clandestine, but at the same time, it seemed like the wisest approach. Involving George's family too early would only unnecessarily complicate matters further.

"So, when's your next game?" Hermione asked idly, placing down her sandwich. It seemed to her that they had exhausted the topic of the privacy of their newfound relationship.

"Ah, Wednesday…verses the Cannons," George replied causally. "You should come,"

"Perhaps,"

"No, you definitely should, all the WAGs get a private section of the stadium,"

"WAGs?"

"Wives and girlfriends," George explained with a chuckle.

"Oh," Hermione coughed in surprise. She was sure George wasn't intentionally referring to her as his girlfriend. It seemed far too sudden for that. Nevertheless, that it could be the natural interpretation of his comment had shocked her. She felt her face grow warm as a blush arose on her cheeks. "I might come. If I can get off work in time," She muttered, hoping he hadn't noticed the pink flush on her face.

"You should…It should be a good game and Holly will most likely be there….and it would be nice to know I have someone in the stands cheering me on…I'd really appreciate it if you came," George said, his brilliant blue eyes glittering good-naturedly.

"I'll consider it," Hermione answered coyly, knowing that she'd likely attend. The pair continued to make easy going conversation as they finished their meals. Throughout lunch, Hermione could feel the grin threatening at the corners of her mouth as George animatedly told her about his time playing Quidditch in Egypt. Somehow one simple conversation had managed to make everything between them seem so much easier and more straightforward. The internal debate that had been operating within Hermione's conscious since her and George's first kiss was finally in hibernation. She leaned back in her chair, sipping water through a straw, enjoying their time together.

"Well, I suppose we should get going," Hermione sighed as the waiter cleared away their empty dishes and dropped a bill on the table.

"Guess so," Nonchalantly, George tossed a generous collection of Galleons and Sickles onto the table. "So what's the game plan now?" He asked expectantly, grinning rakishly and holding out his hand to Hermione.

"Umm…well, my plan for the day was staying in the library." Hermione replied regretfully as she shyly took his outstretched hand in hers. Holding hands with George was still a novelty. Holding hands in public seemed exceptionally peculiar; it felt, to Hermione, that they were declaring themselves as a couple to the world as a whole, something that, while pleasant, was still jarring. "Would it be awful of me if I were to go back there and get back to work?" The combination of the hearty lunch and the enjoyable conversation had resulted in Hermione becoming reinvigorated regarding her House Elf project. Her head was clear and her spirits lifted and she was sure that she could return to the library and make significant progress in her research.

"I'll walk you there," George offered with a grin.

"You don't have to," Hermione replied. "The library is literally across the street. I'm sure I can manage getting there on my own,"

"Yes, but I have nothing much going on today. I'd rather just spend that time walking across the street with you," George chuckled, playfully nudging Hermione's side with his elbow.

"Ok…that would be nice," Hermione murmured. George's sweet talk was always affective at winning her over. With her hand self-consciously tucked into George's, the pair wandered out of the café and into the afternoon sun. It pleased Hermione to see that the cold spell that had affected London for most of the winner was evidently coming to an end. The street was active with people, although Hermione didn't notice any faces she recognized. They reached the cement stairs leading up to the library – a formidable, sand and rust coloured brick building with countless pillars and windows – when Hermione reluctantly led go of George's hand.

"What is it, Mione," He asked.

"This is the library, George," She pointed out. "If you remember, it's where you were taking me…unless you wanted to come in with me,"

"Yah, might as well," George chuckled. "I don't know if I can ever say that I've been in a library twice in one day before,"

"Alright," Hermione commented, opening up one of the double, glass doors leading into the building. "But I warn you, it will be terribly boring," She laughed.

"That's ok…I'll leave if need be," George grinned casually, glancing around his surroundings. "You know, this place is really quite spectacular. I mean, I don't quite understand why you spend so much time here or anything…but it's quite nice,"

"I know," Hermione agreed adamantly, purposely disregarding his teasing. She went to the library so frequently that she often failed to appreciate the splendor of the ancient building, but George was correct; it was phenomenal. The impressive foyer boasted several intricate stained-glass windows which lit the burgundy carpeting in a pattern of dancing and flickering blues, greens, and yellows. There was something about the building that was reminiscent of a cathedral, which to Hermione – who always had a certain reverence for books – seemed perfectly appropriate. The insides of the library were stocked with shelves and shelves of tomes, literature, and spell books. It was lit by nothing by a multitude of elaborate candelabras, all of which had been enchanted to avoid the threat of the highly-flammable books catching fire. Gothic stone figurines of real and mythical animals stood in the corners of all the library levels. The combination of the old books, the dim candle lighting, and the statues gave the building an unquestionable eeriness, but Hermione loved it nevertheless.

Hermione and George wandered through the library towards the spiral staircase. The tapestry that lined the stairwell was a mismatch of scenes in muted coloured embroideries. The glorious needlepoint displayed stories from wizard history and mythology. Some of the images moved across the fabric, changing as they strolled up the stairs, while other pictures remained still. Hermione loved the artwork and how it told the stories with which she was so familiar in nothing but images. She was fascinated by the way the tapestry seamlessly melded together fact and folklore in such a beautiful medium. Other than the vast collection of books, the tapestry that wound up the stairwell was Hermione's favourite part of the library.

"Ah, Mione…is that you?" George asked midway between the second and third floors, pointing at a spot on the pictorial.

"What's that? Oh er, that, ah, is me," Hermione muttered in a slightly embarrassed fashion. After the battle of Hogwarts, the tapestry had been altered to include a huge, detailed illustration of Harry's duel with Voldemort and other scenes from the Battle at Hogwarts. Tucked in the corner was a tiny, delicately stitched image of Hermione destroying the Hufflepuff Cup Horcrux.

"I had no idea you were such a star, Mione," George laughed.

"I'm not," Hermione shrugged off his observation and continued up the stairs. "There's lots of people on this tapestry. Look…your mum's right there," She pointed out an image just before the third floor of Mrs. Weasley besting Bellatrix Lestrange in the Great Hall. George remained silent, but his proud grin said everything.

The fourth floor was still deserted when Hermione and George entered it from the staircase. Hermione made a beeline for the table she had used all morning and was startled to see that all her books were still positioned across the table in the exact way that she had left them. Most likely, she figured, no one had even been on the floor since she and George had left for lunch. Hermione pulled out the same chair she had been using earlier while George sat at the table across from her. After rummaging through the unending compartments in her beaded bag, Hermione found the stack of parchment she had been using earlier to record notes.

"So, what are you doing here?" George asked after she laid her parchment on the table's surface.

"Um, well, I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," Hermione admitted. "Right now I'm just hoping to come across something useful…something I can build my argument upon,"

"Hmm…what do you have so far?" George glanced across the table to peer at Hermione's notes on her parchment.

"Ugh, very little," She groaned. "I think I might be one of the only people willing to champion the cause of House Elves. So not finding much…feeling that it's a bit of an uphill battle…"

"What about this person?" George questioned, picking up a book Hermione had pulled from a shelf earlier. It was the make-shift text that had been constructed from a thin stack of parchment and several staples. "_House Elfs are People To," _He read the title aloud. "Hmm…sounds as if you could do much better."

"The problem is, right now I don't know if I could," Hermione chuckled, but her feigned good-natured tone failed to mask her deep-seated frustration. "Maybe I should just go before the Ministry with '_House Elfs are People To.' _Who knows, it could be convincing."

"I don't know if this is that bad," George replied, flipping through the crude book. "She actually talks to House Elves…and records the interviews…she's very impassioned about the issue…there could be something useful hidden in here. Maybe Matilda Malvena McGuire is worth your time," He laughed, reading the name of the author off the front cover.

"But George, it can't possibly be worthwhile. Look at it…it-it's riddled with mistakes…it's largely incoherent. It's not even published by a reputable source." Hermione observed with a genial chuckle. She took the book from George and leafed through it, pointing out some particularly offending passages. The writing had caused her grammar-conscious sensibilities to respond adversely and for her to worry that perhaps only truly daft people supported the House Elf cause.

"Don't write off a potential ally that quickly, Hermione," George suggested kindly. "You never know where you're going to find your necessary inspiration."

"Maybe," Hermione admitted skeptically, remaining doubtful about Matilda Malvena McGuire's defence of House Elves. "So, I'm going to get to work here…did you want to stick around?"

"I think I'm going to head home, if you don't mind," George smiled. "But come over when you're done. I'd like to see you and, besides, you left your parka and gloves and stuff at my flat yesterday."

"Right," Hermione blushed. She had left in such a hurry that she hadn't realized that she had forgotten her winter accessories. "I'll be there once the library closes."

"Brilliant," George replied lightly. "See you for dinner," George stood up from his chair, but before he turned to leave, he leaned across the table and kissed Hermione softly on her lips. Hermione smiled after he removed his lips. The tender peck was nothing compared to the lengthy snogging sessions, but somehow it was all more sweet and special.

"I'll see you then, George," She replied with a content grin before he turned and disappeared into the library stacks.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. If you get the chance, leave a comment. They're always extremely appreciated! _


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Another fluff chapter! _

Exhausted, Hermione left the library moments before she would have been asked to leave for closing. She had compiled an impressive collection of notes, although she wasn't sure if anything she had recorded would prove useful. Before leaving the fourth floor, Hermione had gathered her notes and hurried to the washroom, where she found a mirror hanging above the ornate, metallic sink basin. She had quickly tidied her hair with a comb she thankfully had stowed in her beaded bag and deemed her appearance presentable.

"Don't be so nervous about seeing George," She commanded, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. "There's no need to feel uncomfortable…he likes you and you like him…not a big deal." She took several deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart and tried to feel less uncertain about going to visit George. Nonetheless, she still completed her look with a fine layer of pale pink lip gloss. It helped dress up her casual attire of jeans and a dark blue, short-sleeve top and, oddly, made her feel more confident. Even though she and George had confessed their attractions to each other, there was still a lingering awkwardness that Hermione was incapable of shaking. "How about you treat him like a normal person….that might make you feel better," She suggested wryly to herself. "He's not just someone you like to snog."

Hermione's breathing rate was regular as she left the library and her hands were steady. Evidently, her washroom pep talk had succeeded. She decided to walk to George's building, which was relatively close to the library. The winter sun had long since set, but the walk was well-lit by the paper lanterns that had been suspended above the street. Other than a few patches that had once been snowmen or snow forts, the snow that had once covered the street was gone. Many of the buildings along the walk were covered in strands of blinking lights, providing both illumination and ambience. There was a peacefulness that Hermione wasn't sure whether to accredit to her surroundings or to her own mental state. She was glad that she no longer had to wrestle with concerns relating to George's feelings for her. It allowed her to complete the walk in quietness, simply enjoying her stroll and the decorated street, rather than being distracted by her own thoughts.

By the time she reached George's, Hermione felt less anxious and more excited about the prospect of spending the evening with him than she had felt upon leaving the library. She trekked up the many flights of stairs to his flat. She knew she could merely apparate and be at his door in an instant, but the physical exertion helped clear the fog in her head that had been built up by an entire day's worth of studying. Reaching George's front door, she felt lively and energetic as she knocked rapidly on the clean, white door.

There was no answer and Hermione was momentarily confused as to why George would invite her over and then vacate his flat, until she noticed that a small, piece of parchment had been tacked to the door just below the knob. She pulled it off the door and unfolded the paper, reading what was written on it in George's scrawling printing.

"Mione, I'm on the roof. Join me," It stated simply. Perplexed, Hermione refolded the note and stashed it in the back pocket of her jeans. She tested the door knob and discovered that it was unlocked and let herself into George's flat. Wandering past the living room and along the hall, she made her way to the steep stairs that led to George's roof. The stairs were much easier to climb in her trainers and comfortable jeans than they had been in her New Year's party dress and high heels and Hermione was quickly on the roof. Throwing open the door to the outside, she was shocked at the sight that greeted her.

"George, what is all this?" Hermione sputtered, stepping out into the evening air. The roof was awash in tiny, white lights. A twinkling strand snaked around the perimeter, wrapped around the railing. More lights were suspended in the air, at varying heights, causing it to look as if lights were raining from the clear, evening sky. All sorts of intricately cut trees and shrubs were scattered around the edges of the roof. Hermione wasn't sure if they had been there during New Year's or if George had recently brought them up to the roof. She was sure, however, that he had been the one to decorate all of the greenery with matching tiny, sparkling, white lights. A raised platform was set up at one side of the roof. It was covered in a navy blue blanket with a dozen matching throw pillows. Dishes were laid out on the platform surrounding the blanket and a bottle of white wine was chilling in a refrigerated cylinder.

"Oi, you made it," George laughed from his spot lounging on the blanket.

"Of course I did. This looks amazing." Hermione answered, wandering over to join him. The platform had obviously been enchanted, because instead of feeling like the hard slates of wood of which it was made, it was soft and comfortable. Hermione happily sunk into the plush surface, reclining against several of the throw pillows. "Did you do all this?"

"Well, I figured it was the least I could do for behaving like such a prat."

"It's lovely, George," Hermione sighed contently, leaning further into her small knoll of pillows.

"I hope you don't mind, but I only got fish and chips," George laughed apologetically. "I would have made you something nice if I knew how to cook better,"

"No, that sounds brilliant," Hermione chuckled in return, accepting a generous glass of white wine from George. As she explained the reading she had done in the library that day, George dished her up some of the meal from its paper wrappings. The food was greasy and delicious; exactly what Hermione wanted after a long day of studying. The pair made lighthearted conversation as they enjoyed their dinners. After George finished his food, he placed his dirty dishes on the rooftop beside the platform and extended across the blanket with his head resting on one of the pillows.

"You done there, Mione," He asked with a slight nod at her empty dish.

"I am…it was excellent," She commented idly, placing her dish on the rooftop.

"It should be, I worked terribly hard on it," George joked. "Here, come join me," He added, patting the blanket on the spot next to him. Hermione shuffled along the blanket, stopping right beside George. She stretched out her legs and leaned against one of the pillows, consciously maintaining a sliver of space between her and George. She wasn't quite ready to let their physicality get out of hand again. Even though he had told her that he hadn't merely been interested in her as a shag, she still wanted to hold off on such things until she was certain of the authenticity of his feelings. "I'm awfully glad you came to see me tonight," George shifted so that he was looking directly at her. His blue eyes gleamed with the reflection of the multitude of hovering lights and he was maddeningly attractive in the dim glow.

"I'm glad too," Hermione spoke sincerely. "It's such a lovely night. It's so nice to be outside,"

"It is, isn't it," George answered. "Here, watch this," He picked up his wand from the edge of the blanket and flicked it, causing all the hovering lights to extinguish. Other that the twinkling lights that remained wrapped around the railing and adorning the plants, the only light on the rooftop was provided by the night sky; the moon was particularly round and bright and the stars were in full force on the clear winter night, bringing enough light to the rooftop that Hermione could still easily see George.

"It really is fantastic," Hermione whistled appreciatively.

"You look pretty amazing in the night time, Mione," George smiled appealingly.

"Oh, don't," Hermione chided good-naturedly and rolled onto her back, resting her head against one of the pillows to better gaze at the elaborate and overlapping constellations of stars. She thought for a bit about what she had learned in school about the meaning of the constellations and what they were able to teach about fates and futures, but eventually decided to just shut off her mind and enjoy the beauty of the night sky. George had adopted the same prone position and they lay in silence for some time, their heads nearly touching on their adjacent pillows.

"I think this is one of my favourite things about this building," George quietly observed eventually. "When you're on the roof at this time of night, it's like you're the only one around."

"I know what you mean," Hermione replied. The stillness and the silence of the lofty height were overwhelming. Although she knew that London was directly below her and that she was atop a building populated with many people and families, there was still a certain aloneness found atop the roof. "It's really quite spectacular," She added, almost more to herself than to George.

"I like being up here with you though, Hermione," George said fervently. Shyly, he reached out his arm and looped it around Hermione's head. She knew what he wanted from the action and obliged, feeling comfortable enough to draw nearer to him. Slowly, she shifted her position on the blanket, coming to rest her head in the crook where George's arm met his torso. Neither said anything about their newfound closeness, but by the way George tenderly rubbed her shoulder with his hand, Hermione knew he appreciated it as much as she did. Without really thinking, she turned on her side and laid her arm across George's midsection, continuing to twist her head so that she could gaze at the stars. George's body radiated heat and Hermione felt more comfortable than she had expected tucked in beside him. Even though the lengths of their bodies were touching, the moment felt innocent. Hermione could tell that George wasn't going to attempt to jump start the physicality between them and neither was she. Instead, they just lay peacefully, continuing to observe the vivid display of stars.

"What is this, Hermione," George asked after sometime, tenderly stroking her forearm that she had rested across his chest.

"What's what, George?"

"On your arm," He replied.

"Oh, that," Hermione answered quickly, pulling her arm off of him and covering it with her other hand. The spot that George had noticed was the blemished skin that Bellatrix Lestrange had tattooed with the 'Mudblood' slur. Hermione pushed herself up to a seated position and glanced down at her arm. The pale white lines glowed forebodingly in the dim night light, causing the vulgar inscription to shine eerily from her arm. Time hadn't done much to fade the magical scar, although Hermione had gotten proficient at covering it with makeup.

"I've never noticed it before," George continued in a caring tone as he sat up next to Hermione.

"I know…I try to keep it hidden…I forget sometimes though…when I don't think I'll see anyone…I'll forget." Hermione replied.

"It's not right, Mione…you know that…'Mudblood'…it's a filthy word…a filthy prejudice," His gaze was one of concern. Hermione knew that, even though George had never experienced the hurt of the vulgarity, he knew how offensive it could be to her. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want,"

"There's not much to talk about," Hermione tried to chuckle, but it came out sounding like a cough. "I've been through a lot…this is just something that proves it."

"Who was it?" George asked in a low, shockingly menacing voice. "Who did this to you?"

"Lestrange," Hermione muttered. As hard as she tried to sound flippant the name still made her want to shudder. The image of the evil flashing in Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes was burned into Hermione's memory. There were times when Hermione swore she could still feel strands of Bellatrix's wild hair tickling her shoulder as the ardent Death Eater leaned over her, gleefully torturing her on the cold, stone floor of Malfoy Manner. Just as time had done little to fade the scar, it had done little to fade the pain of the motivations behind its creation. "But Bellatrix is no longer a concern….you're Mum's seen to that," Hermione added with a feigned laugh.

"It's not ok, you know that, right Hermione," George said after a lengthy pause.

"I know,"

"I hope you don't worry that I'll think less of you because you're Muggle born," George added sincerely.

"I didn't even consider that," Hermione always knew that the Weasleys were a rarity in the wizard world: a long standing, purebred family who had no prejudices against Muggle born wizards and witches.

"If anything, you're lucky…you're better off being Muggle born, if you think about it," George continued in a speculative fashion. "It's like you have a better understanding of both worlds. And you might even have a better understanding of the wizard world…since you get to have a fresh perspective. I think that helps. I wonder if it's part of the reason why you're so passionate about the House Elf issue…because you understand a bit about what it's like to be an outsider."

"I've never thought of that in those terms," Hermione responded pensively. She never realized that George had given so much consideration to such matters. Giving her scar one last rub, Hermione sank back into a horizontal position and George shortly joined her. The pair continued to lay side-by-side staring into the night sky at the swirling stars a vast distance above them.

"I almost forgot" – George exclaimed, breaking the silence – "I have something for you,"

"What's that," Hermione asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

"It's just something small," He continued, climbing off the platform. "I'll be right back." He jumped off the platform and ran to the edge of the roof. Hermione saw him bend over to fiddle with something. Shortly he returned to the blanket. "Ok, watch this,"

Soon the stars were no longer visible as the night sky was filled with the spectacular colours of fireworks. Blues, purples, yellows, oranges, reds, and greens filled the night. The lights shattered across the sky in amazing shapes and complicated patterns. They whirled and zoomed, all with precision, all following the outline George had constructed. Hermione gasped as an image of a dragon swooped above her, gradually transforming into a dancing fairy.

"This is amazing, George," She breathed in utter disbelief. "I can't believe you made all this for me,"

"I wanted to…It reminds me of New Year's…besides fireworks are my favourite thing to create," He smiled.

"It's incredible…what will everyone think though?" Hermione questioned. She was sure the sounds of the fireworks could be heard by everyone in the building. The lights were high enough that they would have been seen by most of London, including Muggle London.

"Oh, they'll just think it's a celebration. Most will hopefully just enjoy it," George chuckled, wrapping his arm around Hermione and pulling her into his torso.

"Or be terribly confused by it," Hermione speculated, not removing her eyes from the lights. She was sure that any Muggles witnessing the amazing display would be confounded.

"Oh no…Muggle technology is incredibly advanced," George contended.

"Not this advanced," Hermione whistled as an image of a centaur galloped across the night sky. In awe, she watched the rest of the presentation. The Weasley twins had always managed to create impressive firework creations, but none as impressive as the one George had produced that night. All too soon, it came to an end and only the stars and moon remained in the night sky.

"I'm so happy you came here tonight," George murmured into Hermione's ear.

"Me too," She returned, turning her head and kissing him softly on the lips. He reciprocated her kiss, but neither allowed it to escalate. Their kiss was brief, but special. Hermione knew that it was one created by genuine affection, not mere lust. Contently, she leaned her head again t George's shoulder, continuing to look up into the sky as he held her snugly against his torso. The night should have been chilly, but George had obviously performed a spell on the rooftop to ensure that it remained at a cozy temperature. As a result, Hermione didn't feel that her short-sleeved top was inadequate. She leaned against George, enjoying his warmth beneath her, the comfort of the soft surface of the blanket on the platform and the view above. The sight of the infinite, celestial bodies always made Hermione feel small and insignificant. It was easy to feel lost when viewed in the context of the enormity of the cosmos. However, next to George she somehow felt very much like she belonged at the same time.

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment if you get the chance. Reviews are always extremely appreciated! _


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty **

_Author's Note: As always, thanks so much for reading. I think you're all fantastic. Sorry about the lenghty delay. I've been experience quite a bit of writer's block lately and been working on my exams...hopefully I'll get back into the writing grove. _

"Mione, you made it. I'm so excited," Holly exclaimed loudly as Hermione entered the section of the Quidditch stadium that had been reserved for guests of the players. Hermione was surprised to see that, instead of being rows of bleachers, like where she had sat for George and Ginny's game, the section was a small room that only those with special passes were permitted to occupy.

"This is bizarre," Hermione replied, wandering over to join Holly beside the wall of windows that looked out over the pitch. The pitch was tiny from their impressive height. The small room was on the very top level of the stadium. Hermione had climbed up all twelve flights of cement stairs to find it. Based on the others in the room, she guessed that most didn't mind being so far above the pitch and away from the action of the game. Several women were in the room with her and Holly, but they were all lounging on the plush, leather couches situated away from the window or enjoying the bar and food provided at the back of the room. Only Holly was standing by the windows, looking out over the field, watching the teams as they warmed up for the match.

"Well, this is what you can expect as a WAG," Holly laughed with an exaggerated wink as Hermione came to stand next to her. When her co-worker had discovered her relationship with George, Hermione has experienced some good-natured ribbing at work and she wasn't surprised that Holly was keen on continuing to tease her about her newfound status.

"Right….wives and girlfriends," Hermione repeated the term that George had taught her in the café several days prior. She hadn't seen George since they had shared dinner on his roof and watched the stars and fireworks. However, this time, Hermione knew it was because of the misfortune of their busy schedules, not because he wasn't interested. Since that night, most of her evenings included Gilbert, her owl, delivering her a letter from George. Most of his letters were short and bereft of great detail, but they were always welcomed, always unquestionably sweet, and always managed to make Hermione laugh. One night, his letter included tickets to his Quidditch match; something Hermione was rather excited about attending, even though the fanaticism that surrounded Quidditch still left her confused.

"Oi, you can't wear that, Mione," Holly laughed, casting a pointed look down at Hermione's outfit.

"What's wrong with this?" Hermione asked. She was certain her slender, dark jeans and fine mauve blouse were perfectly suitable. Glancing around, she noticed that most of the other occupants of the room were dressed similarly, even if they were all accessorizing with significantly flashier pieces and were wearing their hair in fancier styles than Hermione's simple braid.

"You have to support the team, Mione," Holly responded quickly and definitively.

"What?"

"Here," Holly added, riffling through her large, honey coloured purse. "You can wear this," She said, handing Hermione a bright red garment. "You're lucky I have both shirts…I couldn't decide between the main logo and the alternate so I brought both in case I changed my mind." Hermione straightened out the wrinkled piece of clothing and looked it over. A large image of the Puddlemore United crest was emblazoned across the front. She glanced at Holly and saw that her friend was also wearing a bright red shirt that professed her support of George and Oliver's team. The casual tee shirt was at odds with Holly's sparkly, mini skirt, but somehow the blonde managed to make the combination look more than suitable. "If you're going to watch from up here, you have to watch like a real fan," Holly declared defiantly. Hermione noticed that Holly had also painted the crest across one of her cheeks and a small, red number '1' – the number Oliver wore on his jersey – on the other. Her small, dangling earrings also depicted the tiny crest.

"I don't know if that's quite right, Hol," Hermione laughed, pulling the top over her head. The much taller girl's shirt was oversized on the petite Hermione and it fit over Hermione's blouse easily. "You seem to be the only one doing so," She whispered motioning around the room. No one else was sporting the team colours or logo.

"Well, I'm the only one who knows how to do this properly." Holly grinned. "And you too now…I think you look great…I have my face paint in my bag…do you want George's number?"

"Why not," Hermione laughed. Even though going to such lengths to prove her fandom felt silly, Holly's obvious enthusiasm was contagious and Hermione was enjoying herself.

"Here, look at me," Holly instructed. Holly's tiny paintbrush tickled Hermione's cheek as Holly directed it in the pattern of the number '6'; the number that George wore. "Now you look fantastic," The blonde admired her handiwork on her friend. "So, you and George, eh," Holly casually mentioned as she tucked the small bottle of paint and the tiny paintbrush back into her massive purse.

"Me and George," Hermione repeated nondescriptly. She knew what her friend was getting at, but didn't want to make it that easy for her to introduce the conversation.

"I would like some details," Holly laughed.

"I think I told you everything you need to know on Monday," Hermione replied cheekily. Holly had come to her office first thing Monday morning for the weekend briefing. When Hermione had told her of her conversation with George and their rooftop dinner, Holly had been ecstatic. Her reaction to the news was almost greater than Hermione's had been; she had squealed loudly and had playfully pushed Hermione in the shoulder so forcefully that she almost caused Hermione to lose her balance in her chair. Nonetheless, Hermione had appreciated her friend's enthusiasm. It was encouraging to see that she cared so much to get so excited.

"I doubt that, Mione. I'm sure there's more that you can tell," The blonde inquired.

"I told you about the fireworks,"

"Yah," Holly sighed wistfully. "You didn't tell me about how you snogged him stupid afterwards though," Her grin was mischievous.

"We didn't," Hermione glanced poignantly at her coworker.

"That's unfortunate," Holly replied.

"It will happen in time," Hermione answered.

"And when it does, you'll tell me all about it, right," Holly laughed heartily.

"Doubtful," Hermione returned her friend's laughter.

"Well…at least the game should be starting soon," Holly idly commented.

Hermione looked through the wall of windows out onto the pitch. She could barely see the tiny players and couldn't discern each individual. The majority of the stands were made up of fans in bright red Puddlmore United clothing, although several sections consisted of supporters in the Chudley Cannon's orange. As Hermione watched, the players retreated to their respective sides and the game begun.

-o-O-o-

The match ended much quicker than the first Puddlemore United game verses the Harpies. A mere twenty-five minutes after the game balls had been released, the Puddlemore United Seeker claimed the Golden Snitch, ending the match and guaranteeing victory for George's side. Holly had feverously jumped up and down on the spot, pumped her fists into the air, and squealed energetically when Puddlemore had secured victory and Hermione found herself joining in with her friend. She knew that the others in the room were watching her and Holly quizzically, but didn't mind. There was something positively infectious about cheering for a Quidditch side and Hermione realized that she cared far more about the outcome of the game than she had initially anticipated.

"Now what? Do we just leave," Hermione asked, surveying the scene through the windows. The Puddlemore team was taking a celebratory lap of the field to the ecstatic cheers of their supporters. The Cannon's fans were filing out on mass: disappointed that their team had lost so soundly and that they hadn't even gotten a decent match for their money.

"No, we go join the team," Holly practically shouted. Even though the secured room was impenetrable and the sounds of the field could not be heard, Holly was still evidently swept away by the celebration and the excitement. Hermione looked around the room and saw that the other women had already apparated out, likely to go elsewhere to wait for the team. "Here, grab hold," Holly offered, holding out her arm for Hermione. Hermione grasped her friend's arm with both hands. Once her grip was secure, Holly initiated apparition and the pair disappeared from the room with a loud snap, leaving it empty.

-o-O-o-

Hermione and Holly rematerialized instantly in the Puddlemore United team room in the underbelly of the grand stadium. The team, coaches, alternates, and trainers were all present, situated around the room. Some were playing billiards, some were drinking Butterbeers out of cans, several were playing cards around a circular table, and others were lounged across the couches. Hermione recognized several of the women who had been with her and Holy in the private viewing section seated on one of the many couches, chatting animatedly together.

"Oi, look, there's Ollie and George," Holly pointed to one corner of the room to where George and Oliver had claimed several of the couches with some of their teammates. The couches were positioned in the corner of the room as they might be in a sitting room, creating a semi-circle of couches for visiting. Holly grabbed her hand and eagerly led Hermione across the large recreational room. Hermione noticed that more team banners had been added since the last time she had visited the room, including a large scarlet, rectangular one that proudly proclaimed 'Congratulations Puddlemore United: 2-0;" presumably, Hermione figured, in reference to the team's two wins to their zero loses.

"Hey, look at you," George proclaimed excitedly when Hermione and Holly came to stand next to the semi-circle of couches in the corner of the room. He was lounging in one of the couches with his feet up on a coffee table, finding a rare clear spot on the surface amidst the many Quidditch magazines and playbooks that covered it. He had changed out of his team uniform and was wearing jeans and a Puddlemore United tee shirt emblazoned with the same crest as the top Hermione was wearing. His hair was wet and slicked back. His smile was wide and Hermione easily realized that he was still excited about his team's win. "You look awesome….red is a great colour on you," He laughed gleefully, jumping up from the couch to greet Hermione with a playful hug and kiss her on the cheek that wasn't painted with his number '6.'

"Hey, George," Hermione echoed his lively greeting. "Nice win,"

"Thanks," George chuckled. "I barely had to do anything…the lads played great though. Is this a new shirt?" He asked, glancing down appreciatively at Hermione's Puddlemore United top.

"No, it's Hol's…she insisted I wear it…and that I put this on my face," Hermione chuckled, motioning at her decorated cheek.

"I think it's brilliant. It's a good look for you," He chuckled. "I hope the game wasn't too boring."

"No, it was actually a lot of fun," Hermione replied truthfully. "I think watching with Holly is the best way to watch the game,"

"Of course it is. Hol's one of our best supporters," George grinned, pointing appreciatively at Holly who had joined Oliver on the couch. The couple was sitting exceptionally close to each other, but none of the team seemed to mind.

"Mione's giving me a run for my money," Holly laughed, flashing Hermione a thumbs-up sigh.

"That's what I like to hear," George looped his arm around Hermione's shoulder. He turned to face those of his teammates who were congregated on the couches. "Hey, do you guys all know Hermione?" He yelled out to the general vicinity.

"Of course," Oliver called from his spot next to Holly, motioning with his hand in an absentminded wave.

"Hermione Granger, right?" Asked a tall, lankly, dark skinned man who had come to stand next to George. Like George and Oliver, he was also wearing a Puddlemore United top. Hermione wondered if the team was expected to change from their jerseys into other Puddlemore attire, or if all the players had simply done so on their own accord.

"Yup…the one and only," George responded. "Mione, this is Reid…Reid, Hermione." He continued.

"Brilliant…lovely to meet you," The tall man said while vigorously shaking Hermione's hand. "I've heard so much about you," He smiled brightly. Hermione blushed, her face matching the colour of her painted '6.' She didn't know if he meant that he had heard much about her from George or because of her famed status. Either way made her feel rather self-conscious and she didn't want to ask for clarification.

"Reid is Ang's cousin," George offered by way of an explanation. "And he's a world class Seeker."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Reid answered modestly. Hermione thought that the man – who she guessed was several years older than she – looked vaguely familiar. She wasn't sure if it was simply his resemblance to Angelina or if he was perhaps one of the people who had worked with the Order of the Phoenix and she had crossed paths with him as a result of that.

"Don't be so modest, mate," George was saying as they all snagged spots on the couch. George had pulled Hermione down snugly next to him. He never removed his arm from around her shoulder. Hermione smiled slightly and bit her lip; it was reassuring to know that George had no problem asserting to his teammates that they were a couple. "Today was one of the best performances I've ever seen," George continued to compliment his teammate.

"It really was, mate," Oliver interjected. "Considering I only had to make maybe five saves,"

"You made three," Holly pointed out, good-naturedly nudging her boyfriend with her elbow.

"But they were brilliant right?" Oliver asked.

"Mediocre," Holly responded with a giggle, winking at Hermione. "Hermione and I weren't impressed, were we Mione,"

"Hardly," Hermione laughed. "I don't even think I noticed you on the pitch," She joked towards George, impressed with her own ability to sound like she knew what she was talking about regarding the sport.

"Ouch, well if I knew I had my own cheering section, I would have played a little harder," George chuckled, rubbing Hermione's shoulder. "If we keep playing games like that, we won't even need Beaters. Thanks mate, you saved me a game of working hard…and likely a couple injuries, I'm sure," He leaned across Hermione to slap hands with Reid who was sitting on the other end of the same couch.

"Any time, mate," Reid returned George's laughter. The atmosphere within the room was light and almost giddy. Hermione was certain that it was largely accredited to the team's win and, thus-far, perfect season. The players talked and laughed affably as Oliver dug cans of Butterbeer out of a cooler beside his couch and tossed them to the players in the vicinity.

"Want one, Mione?" Oliver asked pulling another can from the cooler.

"Sure, that'd be nice," Hermione answered pleasantly. Oliver lobbed the can to her and she caught it ably. The drink was sweet and Hermione enjoyed it as she leaned against George, listening to the conversation of the players. Even though the game had only taken twenty-five minutes to complete, dissecting it took twice as long. All the players had to discuss, in great deal, every single play: even those that Hermione was sure had no bearing on the actual outcome of the game. While the conversation wasn't particularly interesting for her, Hermione was continually entertained by George's passion for his sport. He wore a continual grin and shone radiantly as he and Oliver broke down one of the plays that had lead to ta Cannon's scoring opportunity. George's joy was contagious and Hermione found herself grinning along with him. Of course, her smiles were largely accredited to Holly's exaggerated eye-rolls at the Quidditch team members' lengthy discussion. As amusing as Holly's facial expressions were, Hermione knew the blonde was joining the conversation as she contributed just as much as the team did in the analysis. While the conversation wasn't interesting to Hermione, she liked being a part of the collegial atmosphere. Sitting on the couch, in the team colours, with George's arm firmly draped around her shoulder, it was easy to feel like she was a member of the team. It didn't hurt that most of George's teammates took time to ask her what she thought of the game and to thank her for attending.

"Hey, lads" – Matty loudly interrupted his teammates' game breakdown, coming over to semi-circle of couches and heavily plopping down in between Hermione and Reid – "So, are we all going out now, or what?"

"We have practice tomorrow morning," George pointed out with a smile. "I don't think going out's going to happen."

"No, we have to get going," Oliver added, motioning to Holly.

"Yah, I need to get home too," Reid interjected good-naturedly.

"Boo…you're all rubbish," Matty contended. "Hermione, you and me? Want to join me for a couple bevies?"

"W-what?" Hermione stammered, dumbfounded that Matty was coming onto her in front of George.

"None of that, Matty," George laughed, pulling Hermione a bit snugger next to his chest and shaking his head at his teammate. His good-natured tone, however, indicated to Hermione that he didn't take his teammate's come-ons seriously. "Did you want to get out of here, Mione?"

"Ah, that sounds good. Sorry about that Matty," Hermione said, chuckling at Matty's expression of mock disappointment. Accepting George's hand, she boosted herself off the couch. After saying quick goodbyes to George's teammates, she and George wandered out of the team room.

-o-O-o-

Once they entered the cement corridor, George placed his arm securely around Hermione's waist and initiated apparating. Hermione braced herself and held on tightly to George's arm while her centre was whisked away through the apparating process. With a loud crack, they landed with a thud in the middle of George's living room. Hermione gratefully sank into the leather couch while her head continued to spin from the sudden transportation. She shuddered slightly when remembering the events of the last time she was on George's couch, but conscientiously relaxed, knowing that the circumstances were significantly different than the time of her and George's conversation following his previous Quidditch game.

"Thanks for coming out today, Mione," George grinned, sitting down next to Hermione, wrapping his arm around her.

"Of course…it was actually kind of a goodtime," Hermione laughed, surprised that what she said was true.

"It was awfully nice having a cheering section," George joked, placing his free hand lightly on Hermione's knee. "I hope you can come next weekend. It's going to be a tougher game…so we could use all the support we can get."

"I'll consider it," Hermione responded noncommittally. "I might need the time to get some work done…I'm feeling pretty behind on everything,"

"Alright…well…if you get the chance, there's always a ticket for you…"

"Brilliant," Hermione smiled as George pulled her a bit tighter into his torso.

"I like having you there," George said, moving his hand from Hermione's knee to her chin. He gently stroked her delicate skin and then leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. Hermione hesitated, considering if she should return his kiss. Quickly thinking through the events of the last few days, she recognized that George had been acting in a way that demonstrated that his feelings were authentic. Deciding he deserved the benefit of the doubt, Hermione leaned in to reciprocate his kiss. George's hand found the back of her head and he held her snugly in place. The kiss was sweet and innocent, but Hermione enjoyed it. It lacked the manic desperation of some of their previous kisses, but it didn't need it; neither needed to experience the entirety of the other, since they both knew that the other wasn't going anywhere. Hermione sighed. There was something amazing about the feel of George's lips on hers and she was sure she would never tire of the experience.

"Mmm…I'm so glad you're here, Mione. I'm so glad with everything…" George murmured, pulling his face from hers.

"Me too," Hermione breathed contently. She leaned against George's torso, rested her head on his shoulder, and tucked her feet beneath her, as George entwined both his arms around her. As George softly rumpled her hair, she closed her eyes, overwhelmed and overjoyed by the recent events.

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading. Please follow my story or leave a comment if you get the chance and would like to make me very happy! I realize the last few chapters have been very filler, but that's because (a) I quite like writing filler and (b) I really want to develop their relationship…And that seems to mean filler, fluff chapters…There is some plot coming up though! _


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! So very appreciated! As always, very much not mine. _

Hermione gulped and knocked cautiously on the wood paneled, deep burgundy front door of the Burrow. Nervousness was hardly her typical emotion when going to visit her dear friends, but on that particular day, she experienced an odd sense of trepidation; it was going to be the first time that she saw her beloved surrogate family since she and George had begun their budding relationship. As much as she hoped that the Weasleys would be thrilled at the revelation that she was involved with one of the middle sons, Hermione still worried that their reactions would be less than favourable. She and George had decided that they wouldn't upstage young Victoire's birthday party– the reason everyone was gathering on the bright Saturday morning – by unveiling their relationship, but Hermione wondered if everyone would pick up on new oddities within their interaction nevertheless. As she waited for someone to come to the door, Hermione shifted her weight between her feet and deeply exhaled, willing herself to not appear tense or out of sorts.

"Oh, Hermione…lovely to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered the door and pulled Hermione into an eager hug.

"Hmph, hello Molly," Hermione responded, her voice muffled by Mrs. Weasley's gingham apron. "It's nice to see you too,"

"Well…come in dear…Harry and Ginny and Ron are all in the living room," Mrs Weasley bustled, shutting the door behind Hermione and ushering her into the warmth of the Burrow's foyer.

"Are the others not here yet?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I would have thought Bill and Fleur would already be here," She quickly clarified.

"Oh of course, sweetie. Bill and Fleur are in the dining room with Percy and Audrey. I just thought you would be more interested in the others."

"Ah, definitely…I was just asking out of curiosity," Hermione responded, refraining from continuing her questioning to discover if George had arrived.

The Christmas decorations that had recently adorned the Burrow had been cleared out, but the home still looked as cozy and welcoming as ever. Rows upon rows of pictures in mismatched frames lined the stairs leading up to the main part of the house. All the pictures depicted the Weasley children and grandchildren at different ages, waving and smiling. Hermione chuckled fondly at all of the familiar pictures as she always did; the depictions of her favourite red-heads always provided cheer. Included in the collection of the many images of Weasleys were quite a few of her and Harry, both at Hogwarts and from the Burrow. Hermione's smile grew wider at the sight of those pictures; knowing that the Weasley's deemed the two of them as close enough to family to deserve spots amongst the family portraits was always encouraging.

"Well…here we are, dear," Mrs. Weasley gushed, leading Hermione into the living room.

"Thanks, Molly," Hermione grinned. While Mrs. Weasley's guidance was hardly necessary – Hermione already had an intimate knowledge of the outlay of the house – the hospitable nature of the Weasley matriarch was always welcomed.

"Ginny! Ron! Harry! Hermione is here to see you!" Mrs. Weasley shouted into the living room, interrupting the occupants from their conversation.

"Hey guys," Hermione added. "Oh, hey Lavender," She added in her friendliest voice to the girl seated next to Ron. Although she had never formed a solid friendship with her former classmate, Hermione didn't want Lavender to be discouraged over Mrs. Weasley's failure to mention her. The younger witches and wizards bade goodbye to Mrs. Weasley as she left the room. Hermione ambled across the room, joining Harry and Ginny on the smaller of the Weasley couches.

"Good to see you, Mione," Ginny laughed good-naturedly, swinging her feet onto Hermione's lap while lounging back against Harry.

"You too, Gin" – Hermione smiled in return – "How's it going?"

"I'm good…and you? What's new?"

"Erm…ah, nothing," Hermione stammered. "Wh-wh…How's the team doing?"

"Pretty good…won the last one. Still feeling we have a chance this season," Ginny smiled broadly while playing with a strand of her long, red hair.

"I think you can still place," Harry replied encouragingly, joining into the girls' conversation. "You have a strong team…I like your chances," He added, rubbing his fiancée's shoulder through her pale pink sweater.

"You have a better shot than the Cannons," Ron contributed glumly from across the room, clearly resigned to the fact that his beloved Chudley Cannons were going to finish at the bottom of the league yet again.

"Oi, what about the Cannons? Discussing the embarrassment they suffered last match are we?"

A new voice loudly echoed through the room. Hermione glanced up from where she was sitting and saw that George, Fred, and Angelina were entering the room. Both Fred and Angelina were carrying one of their twins. The infants were so bundled up, however, that Hermione couldn't tell which twin was being carried by whom.

"Seriously mate, you didn't come here to gloat about that, did you?" Ron muttered before even greeting his older brother. Even though he narrowed his eyes and shook his head regretfully, Hermione could tell that Ron was still in fine spirits: his downcast expression couldn't mask his grin.

"What did you expect? Obvious I wasn't going to refrain from mentioning something," George's smile was tinged with cockiness. As Fred and Angelina sank into the nearer couch shared by Ron and Lavender, George strode across the room and collapsed into the smaller of the couches, in the spot right beside Hermione. Space was tight on the couch with all four seated on it, particularly with the way Ginny was lounging, and George had to push his way in to make enough room between Hermione and the couch's arm. "Morning, Mione," George chuckled pausing his conversation with Ron and nudging Hermione in the side with his elbow.

"Umph, George, you're sitting on my leg," Hermione replied, pulling her leg out from underneath George, wondering if she should appear put off by his action. "And, lovely to see you,"

"You look smashing as always," George grinned, nodding at Hermione's hunter green, sweater. Hermione bit her lip, convinced that George was referring to the way her top hugged her chest and torso rather snugly.

"Erm, thanks," She responded shyly. George wasn't doing a particularly good job of withholding their relationship from his family; Hermione was sure that the rest must have been privy to his unnecessary flirtation.

"Eh, Ronny…you can't hold it against me that I'd say something about that win against Chudley…I can't help but be proud of my lads over a performance like that," George swiveled his head towards Ron to continue his discussion with his younger brother.

"Oh, get off it…it wasn't that impressive of a win," Ron contended ruefully.

"Ah, Ron, that match was over before it even bega-" Hermione started with a wry chuckle, stopping immediately when she realized to what she was admitting.

"No it wasn't – wait, why do you know that, Mione? You don't follow the Quidditch league, do you?" Ron asked pointedly.

"Ah…er, well, one of my girlfriends at work is a big fan…she had an extra ticket and begged me to go with her," Hermione feebly offered, hoping that her explanation sounded more convincing to the others than it did to herself. "I didn't really care about the outcome or anything," She continued, knowing that her words were at odds with her actions during the match. She pictured the way she and Holly had so ardently worn their support of Puddlemore United and the way they had yelled themselves hoarse during the short match and wondered how the Weasley family would have reacted had they witnessed her display of fandom for George's squad.

"Oh, rubbish," Ron murmured. "I tried to get tickets but couldn't. I hope you at least cheered for Chudley."

"Now, Ronny…none of that…I think I'll have to have a talk with Mione and convince her to support Puddlemore…we could always use the fans," George winked very conspicuously at Hermione. Hermione was certain he was recalling the red '6' she had painted on her face in support of him and the bright red top emblazoned with his team's crest that she had sported and that still lay folded in her closet having not had the chance to return it to Holly yet. George patted her knee tenderly and Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if he was remembering several other more intimate moments that they had shared of which his family remained blissfully unaware. The thought induced a soft blush upon her cheeks.

"Oi, enough Quidditch talk," Hermione laughed self-consciously.

"No such thing as too much Quidditch talk, Mione," George replied good-naturedly, but didn't pursue the conversation any further. "So how are the wedding plans going, Gin," George addressed his younger sister.

"Ah, you know" – Ginny chuckled – "Haven't really sorted out most of the details."

"Have you picked a date yet?" Hermione chimed in, joining the conversation. It didn't surprise her that Ginny hadn't done any preparation for the wedding yet. It would be just like the easygoing red-head to throw something together quite last minute. Hermione knew that the superfluous aspects weren't something that Ginny particularly cared about; she was more excited about joining with Harry in matrimony than about any of the decorations or minor details.

"Yes…on July Thirty-First…that's about the only thing we have settled." Harry echoed his fiancée's good-natured tone.

"Oh, that's really nice," Hermione replied, recognizing immediately the importance of the date: Harry's birthday.

"Have you convinced your fiancé into making me best man yet?" George joked from beside her, directing his comment towards Ginny.

"Er…I already asked Ron," Harry offered kindly.

"Yah mate…that's my job," Ron grinned proudly at George.

"Perhaps you could be the ring bearer," Ginny teased her beloved older brother.

"Ouch," George laughed, grabbing the fabric of his dark grey top right next to his heart to indicate how much pain his sister's comment had elicited.

"Oh no mate…you'll be one of my groomsmen, won't you? I hope you will two, Fred…" Harry quickly added.

"Sure thing, bud…I'd be honoured." George replied. While his statement was lighthearted, the twinkle in his brilliant blue eyes betrayed just how pleased and proud he was to be asked.

"That would be brilliant," Fred said at the same time.

"Ah, erm, Lavender?" Ginny asked, sitting up straighter and removing her feet from Hermione's lap. While her change in position made more room on the couch, Hermione didn't take advantage of it, instead remaining pressed closely next to George.

"Hmmm…what's that, Ginny?" Lavender asked, looking up from her sparkly coloured fingernails that she had been studying before Ginny's utterance.

"Would you like to be one of my bridesmaids?" Ginny responded with a broad smile that Hermione was able to tell was somewhat strained.

"Really?" Lavender replied, her eyes opening a bit wider as she placed her hand in her lap. "Ah, what colour are your bridesmaid dresses,"

"I, ah, haven't decided yet," Ginny faltered.

"Hmm…well maybe I could help you pick something out?" Lavender's smile grew a bit wider and her green eyes flickered with excitement.

"Yah, I suppose so…Would you be interested then?"

"Sure, that would be nice, Ginny…thanks," Lavender replied. Hermione glanced at Ron who was sitting beside Lavender, holding her hand. She thought she noticed a mixed expression of pride and relief in his face and wondered if Ron had talked to his younger sister to include his girlfriend in the wedding. It had only taken several days for Ginny to ask Angelina to be in her wedding party and Hermione speculated that including Lavender may have taken more convincing. She thought it was very kind and welcoming of her dear friend, however, to ask the girl who they hadn't exactly been close with at school to participate in such an important day.

"Oh hey, everyone…Mum said come to the dining room for lunch,"

Hermione eyed the doorway and saw Bill had struck his head into the living room. His youngest daughter, Charlotte, was cozily in his arms, sleeping up against his narrow chest. Charlotte's face was buried in her father's chest and only her fine layers of orangey-red curls were visible. Even though Bill had solidly taken to fatherhood, he had still managed to maintain his cool exterior. His red hair was still worn in a long, ponytail down his back and his style was still more suited to a rockstar than a bank manager. While he had ditched his dragon's tooth earring sometime ago and wasn't quite as fond of snug, dark, leather clothing as he once been, with his slender build and laidback attitude, he still always managed to be the coolest and most glamorous one in any room. Despite the fact that Victoire was turning four that day and Bill and Fleur had two other, younger daughters, seeing Bill with a small child in his arms was always jarring for Hermione, no matter how comfortable Bill seemed carrying one. But then, seeing Fred with a sleeping child in his lap was also odd. She supposed that was just part of growing up: having to get used to seeing her friends become adults and take on the expected roles that came with adulthood.

"Ok, fine," Ginny muttered, half getting up off the couch and half falling from it. She offered her hand to Harry and boosted him off the couch. The pair wandered after Bill into the dining room. Hermione stretched her arms above her and rolled her head from side to side before climbing off the couch, trying to shake off the cramps she had acquired from sitting.

"Mione, just wait," George whispered from her side, reaching up to gently caress her hand. Hermione surveyed the room and saw that Ron, Lavender, Fred, Angelina, and the youngest Weasley twins were slowly exiting the living room.

"What is it?" Hermione asked once they were the only ones left in the room, re-collapsing into the couch.

"I wanted some time alone," George answered confidently. He grabbed the crooks of her knees to pull her closer to him on the couch. Almost instinctively his hand went to her cheek where he stroked her sensitive skin.

"George, you do realize that your family is just one the other side of that wall, don't you?" Hermione asked softly, enjoying the feel of his touch despite her prudent reservations.

"Right now, that doesn't particularly concern me," George laughed, moving his hand from Hermione's cheek to her hair where he gently brushed aside several of her curls that had fallen in front of her face. Tossing aside her better judgment, knowing that a member of the Weasley family could enter the room at any moment, Hermione rose on her knees and wrapped her arms around George's neck. With George sitting and Hermione on her knees, she was a head taller than him and had to bend her neck forward in order to find his lips with hers. As she kissed him, he tightened his hold around her lower back while Hermione eagerly entwined her fingers through strands of his shaggy hair. Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation – such intimacy in the Weasley's living room – hit her and Hermione was overcome by laughter. In between her giggles she kissed George as ably as she could, knowing that a fair number of unintentional bites and bumps were mixed in with the kisses. "You alright there, Mione?" George asked, breaking their kiss and looking at her with an amused glitter in his eye.

"Yes, I am…sorry…this is all just rather bizarre," Hermione spoke quietly, hoping that no one from the other room was overhearing their interaction.

"It is, isn't it?" George smiled, hooking his hand behind Hermione's head to leverage her head down to reconnect their kiss. There was something jovial and buoyant about the kiss. Hermione could tell that it was informed by amusement from their situation. As their kiss rose in intensity, both she and George would have to pause occasionally to chuckle or to glance at the door to insure that no shocked bystanders were observing their moment. George separated from her momentary while his eyes darted to the doorway, a wide smile playing across his face.

"Should we get in there?" – Hermione questioned, tenderly kissing the light stubble of George's cheek – "I'm sure everyone is wondering where we are."

"We could just stay here and hope that no one is aware of our absence," George grinned cheekily, reaching up to kiss Hermione's chin.

"Hmm…I rather like that suggestion," Hermione murmured, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on George's mouth. "But as lovely as that sounds, I do think we should go wish Victoire a happy birthday. That is why we're here, after all." Reluctantly, she jumped off the couch, straightening her green, cable-knit sweater and smoothing her once-straight hair that had been rumpled by George's touch.

"Hermione, don't go," George beseeched warmly, grabbing a hold of Hermione's waist with both hands and pulling her into his lap.

"George…honestly, what's gotten into you?" A note of playful reprimand echoed through Hermione's voice, but she nevertheless tilted her head in order to softly kiss the bottom of his chin where it met his neck.

"Can't we just stay here? There's so many in there, no one will even notice that we're not there." George's hands were warm on Hermione's stomach, even though the thickness of her sweater. His voice was raspy and Hermione was tempted to pay heed to his suggestion.

"You know they probably already have," Hermione pointed out eventually, pushing against the tops of George's thighs in order to assist herself out of his lap.

"Well, fine," George begrudgingly admitted, clambering off the couch to stand behind Hermione. "Let's get in there then," He laughed, placing his hands on Hermione's hips and leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. "You lead the way,"

"Alight George," Hermione chuckled. She pivoted and kissed him once again on the mouth. The kiss was short-lived, but tender and filled with affection. When her lips left his mouth, she paused and cast a flirty expression at George, which he reciprocated with a wide grin. "Well, let's go," She added in a rather seductive tone, turning again and beginning her stroll through the living room. If she was asked, Hermione wouldn't have a satisfactory response for why she was acting in such a frisky manner. Rationally, she knew that they were in a precarious spot of being discovered; all of the Weasleys were in the adjacent room and most certainly would be able to hear them were they to try. Glimpsing over her shoulder at George, who was a mere step behind her, it was inarguable that he looked devastatingly handsome in his perfectly cut, dark grey button down shirt. The stylish top emphasized his strong torso and his well-built arms while his dark-wash jeans hung flatteringly on his narrow hips. His shaggy hair was worn in a casual and nonchalant way and looked as maddeningly alluring as ever. His grin was laidback and appealing. Hermione sighed and forced herself to look forward as she walked across the living room; turning around, she knew, would only lead to more distractions that would certainly delay the couple in joining the rest of the birthday party.

"Ok, get in there," George whispered into her ear as Hermione neared the door, teasingly patting the backside of her jeans with his palm.

"Oh, George," Hermione tried to glare disapprovingly, but she knew her smile revealed her real feelings and her enjoyment from their interactions. "After you," She joked, pulling him forward by his elbow.

"Oh no, ladies first," George graciously offered, bowing low and completing a flourished gesture with his hand in front of him. "Besides, I much prefer the view that way," He straightened his back and spoke at a hushed volume with a sly smile.

"Oh, George…" Hermione reiterated with an agreeable shake of her head. Nevertheless, she quietly continued through the already ajar door, entering the dining room with George trailing after her.

The atmosphere in the dining room was blustery and noisy and no one looked up when Hermione and George joined the crowd. Hermione stealthily crept around the table, slinking into her normal spot next to Ginny while George slid into his typical place across the table beside Fred. Once seated, Hermione glanced up, briefly locking eyes with George who was sitting directly across from her. She fought a giggle as George flashed an infuriatingly attractive grin in her direction. Hermione blushed and turned to try to appear that she had been a part of Ginny and Lavender's conversation the entire time.

"I really think you should go with a bias cut," Lavender was announcing to Ginny. "It's very flattering on everyone. Strapless is probably the best style…or maybe a small cap sleeve if you want to go particularly modest. I know lots of brides don't want to get shown up. And any sort of blues or purples would look good on all your bridesmaids. Ya, I definitely recommend staying with the cool colours."

"Ok," Ginny nodded noncommittally. "We'll have to check out some shops I suppose."

"I'll come with you," Hermione offered, hoping that the other two wouldn't notice that it was her first contribution to the discussion.

"Of course you will," Ginny turned to look at Hermione and smiled brightly. Hermione felt awash of relief sweep through her; Ginny didn't seem curious about her inexplicable absence. "What sort of styles do you think we should look at?"

"Ah…I guess Lavender's right, purples a nice colour," Hermione faltered. She, Ginny, and Lavender easily fell into a conversation on specific wedding details: decorations, cake, centerpieces, guest-lists, bridesmaid accessories were all things of which Lavender educated the others of their upmost importance. While Hermione thought such things didn't particularly matter, she listened intently nevertheless. Occasionally, she'd allow herself to sneak a look across the table at George. Often, he would be glancing back at her. Their eyes would connect and both would smile softly in acknowledgement of the pleasant secret that they shared.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. All comments are very, very appreciated, so if you'd like to do me a huge favour take a moment to leave a review, suggestion, or encouragement! _


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two **

_Author's Note: Thank you very much for reading. Still not mine! Sorry about the delay. Still working through exams and writer's block. Hopefully once the first is over the second will quickly follow! _

"Wow, Molly" – Hermione whistled appreciatively, even though she doubted that Mrs. Weasley could hear her at the other end of the table – "You've certainly outdone yourself this time," She said as she admired the hovering cake as it floated past her spot at the long Weasley dining room table. The cake was impressively large; it had to be in order to feed the many people surrounding the Weasley's dining room table for four-year-old Victoire's birthday celebration. Mrs. Weasley had obviously spent considerable time on the birthday cake. It was three levels high and decorated in bright coloured icing: purples, pinks, and blues were fashioned into images of unicorns, castles, mythical birds, and even a giant troll. Mrs. Wealsey carefully guided the cake above the table, bringing it to a stop and letting it land gently in front of Victoire who had been given Mr. Weasley's normal spot at the end of the table in acknowledgment of her special day. Hermione grinned affectionately as the entire family sang the young girl birthday wishes. She then fought giggles at the sight of Teddy – Victoire's best friend and Harry's godson – trying to help Victoire blow out the four candles that burned with multi-coloured flames much to the chagrin of the flaxen haired girl.

"No Teddy…It's my birthday," Victoire squeaked at a high-pitch, quickly blowing out the candles on her own before Teddy was able to assist her.

"Oi, Fred, remember how we used to fight like that at our birthdays," George chuckled from across the long, narrow table from Hermione, glancing at his twin who was seated beside him.

"Sure do," Fred responded with a grin that mirrored George's.

"There was a time when Fred and I used to not get along as well as we do now," George explained to the rest seated at their end of the table as Molly levitated generous pieces of cake to each guest.

"But then we learned to direct all that at other people," Fred completed his twin's thought.

"And we got along swimmingly after that," George laughed.

"Once we found our shared interest of pranking others," Fred smiled.

"Then we had no reason to fight each other," George added.

"Hmmm, and one day your twins will have the same experience, I'm sure," Hermione pointed out good-naturedly to Fred, smiling down at either the sleeping Ethan or Sophie in the red-head's arms.

"Oh no, Soph and Ethan will be perfectly behaved," Fred announced. "They'll take after their mum," He continued, looking fondly at Angelina.

"Until their Uncle George teaches them all his old tricks, that is," George chuckled, lovingly reaching over and ruffling the curls of the resting infant twin in Fred's lap. "Then mum and dad will have a reason to worry, right Soph," He spoke quietly, clearing up Hermione's confusion as to which twin Fred was holding.

"Oh, don't worry…I'm already preparing on how to deal with the negative influence these two are going to get from their Uncle George," Angelina laughed, casting a reproachful look at George. The affectionate gleam in her dark eyes, however, indicated to Hermione that Angelina wasn't particular concerned about the affect her husband's twin might have on her children. Hermione knew that for all George's jokes, he was nothing but a caring uncle.

"Well, what goes around comes around, Georgie," Fred laughed. "You know that anything you teach Ethan and Soph, they'll be teaching to your future kids once you finally settle down," He added with an exaggerated wink at his twin.

"None of that, Freddie…none of that," George cautioned with a careful chuckle. Although he spoke good-naturedly, Hermione sensed an awkwardness in his comment that wasn't typical of the Weasley twin to whom she had grown close to as of late. She wasn't surprised at George's discomfort. The suggestive tone of Fred's comment made Hermione glad that she and George had decided to wait on telling his family about their relationship; she knew that if they were aware, everyone would pester the couple about when they were going to make a more serious commitment. It was obvious that once Angelina and Fred had the twins, they hoped that the other Weasley twin would have children of similar ages.

-o-O-o-

The rest of the morning passed quickly for Hermione. Time at the Weasley's always did. It seemed to her as if she was constantly caught in the middle of several conversations the entire time. Oft times she would be chatting animatedly with Lavender and Ginny about the wedding plans when she'd be pulled away by a question from Harry. Occasionally, George, Fred, or Angelina would want to include her in their conversation. By the time she was finished her slice of cake, Hermione felt as if her head was on a swivel from how much turning and twisting she did in order to participate in so many conversation. While it was tiring – keeping track of everyone – it was also exhilarating; there was nothing quite as enjoyable and refreshing as socializing with the Weasleys.

"Thank you for coming, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley told her as she was leaving. "It's always so lovely to see you. I hope you come around soon,"

"I will, Molly," Hermione assured the older woman, giving her quick but snug embrace. Hermione turned to leave the Burrow. Ron and Lavender had left just moments before her and Fred and Angelina had to leave soon after cake was finished because Ethan had been cranky.

"Oi, hey Mum. I should say bye to you now," George announced from the top of the stairs above the Weasley's landing. "I have to leave now as well," He said as he bounced down the stairs.

"Awe, that's too bad George," Mrs. Weasley said, rubbing her son's shoulder. "I'm so glad you were able to make it,"

"Yah, it was great as always Mum," George smiled, leaning down to gently kiss Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. "Want me to walk you out, Mione?" He added, turning towards Hermione.

"Er, sure…that would be nice," Hermione replied, waiting for George to dig his shoes out of the large pile by the doorway. As Mrs. Weasley wandered back up the stairs, George graciously offered his arm to Hermione. "Let's go,"

"Sounds good," Hermione grinned, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as George opened up the door for them.

"So, I have a little surprise for you, Mione," George absentmindedly stated once they were outside in the bright light of the crisp afternoon day.

"Oh, what's that?"

"Well…it's nothing much…but remember that book you had in the library?"

"Which one?"

"The one you didn't like,"

"Oh, that awful one?" Hermione questioned with an amused smile. "The _House Elves are People _one?"

"Yup, that's the one," George responded as they stood on the walk in front of the hosue. "I know you thought it was rubbish and it probably is. But I tracked down the author, Matilda Malvena McGuire. And it turns out she lives in England…In the countryside...and she still really cares about House Elves. So I've set up an appointment so that you could talk to her. If you're interested, I thought that we could go visit her."

"Oh…that's very considerate George," Hermione chuckled. "But I don't know if she'll be any help. That book, if you can call it that, was not particularly well-written. It read at spots like the ranting of a maniac."

"I'm sure she's a bit of a maniac," George laughed lightheartedly. "But you're so rational and clever, maybe a dash of the maniac is exactly what you need."

"Hmm…" Hermione considered his words. "I don't know." She recalled the book and what was written within in and how disdainful she had been of it when she had encountered it in the library. "_Remember_ _to_ _always keep an open mind,"_ She had written several months prior in her trusty notebook. She knew at times she could be a bit of an academic snob and wondered if perhaps George was right and she did need to infuse her systematic research with a bit of fiery passion; something she might find from a visit with Matilda Malvena McGuire. "You know what George…maybe that will be wise…why don't we go pay her a visit. I have nothing else going on this afternoon."

"Excellent," George replied with an eager smile. "At the best, you might find something useful…at the worst, we get to take a little trip together."

"Well, that's one way of looking at it, I suppose," Hermione grinned. "I always enjoy a nice jaunt to the country," She laughed, not entirely hopeful that the trip would be particularly useful. Nevertheless, there was something appealing about jetting off at the last minute with George, even if it was only for an afternoon. "So, how are we going to get there? I can't apparate there, I've no idea where it is," She chuckled. Since an important part of apparating was being able to picture the intended destination, it could prove a useless form of transportation for unfamiliar places.

"Me, neither," George replied. "I've been communicating with her via owls only and only have very general understanding as to where she lives. I was thinking we'd fly there."

"Fly?"

"On brooms, obviously,"

"Hmm…George," Hermione hesitated. "I'm not much of a flyer. I've never flown for a considerable distance….I actually don't think I've covered more than just a field,"

"Don't worry, I can take care of that," George volunteered. "Come on," He laughed, shaking Hermione's hand off his arm and instead taking her hand in his. Together, they jogged around the perimeter of the Burrow towards the back yard. Hermione quickly shuffled her feet to keep up with George and ensure that her blue, canvas flats wouldn't fall off into the no-longer frosty grass of the Burrow's yard. Finally, they made it to the back where George drew them to a halt in front of the Weasley's large, wooden, multi-purpose shed. "Just sit tight, Mione," He instructed. Hermione waited while George scampered into the shed, eventually reemerging carrying one of his older brooms.

"That won't be able to carry both of us, will it George?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"Sure it will," George responded with his typical self-assurance. "You have no reason to worry, remember I'm a professional…actually, I am,"

"True," Hermione chuckled. "Ok, well, if you insist…I suppose I have no reason not to trust you,"

"No, you do not," George answered confidently, swinging his leg over the broom. "Well get over here," He beckoned, gesturing for Hermione to join him.

"Alright," Hermione giggled cautiously. She wandered next to George, momentarily unsure as to how she was to mount the broom.

"Kiss for good luck?" George smiled before Hermione had the opportunity to decide how she wasn't to climb onto the broom.

"Good luck?" Hermione murmured. "Don't tell me we need good luck…that will only make me dread this more,"

"Then just a kiss?" George's smile broadened.

"That I can do," Hermione chuckled, bending down to softly kiss George's forehead as he sat on the broom.

"That's it?" George chuckled softly. He took his hands off the broom and balanced effortlessly without holding on to the broom. Reaching up he wrapped his arms around Hermione's neck, pulling her down towards him. The angle was awkward for Hermione and she placed her hands on George's thighs in order to properly bend down to kiss him. Once her lips found his, the uncomfortable stance didn't matter. Gleefully she returned George's kiss, even assuredly sneaking her tongue into his mouth momentarily to increase the passion. She fought a smile as George purposefully ran his hands through her hair. Every time she kissed him, she was reminded anew how much she enjoyed the feeling of his lips on hers.

"Wow, Mione," George muttered appreciatively after Hermione had pressed her tongue into his mouth, wrestling with his for position. "Now I'm kind of thinking we should scrap this little field trip entirely and instead just head back to my place..." His eyes flashed with desire, but with his laidback tone and nonchalant smile, Hermione wasn't entirely sure if he was serious or merely teasing her or both. Hermione resisted the temptation to comply with his suggestion on the off chance that he was teasing.

"I think you went to a lot of work to arrange this for me…and you've finally gotten me on board…so I think it's best we go check out what Matilda Malvena McGuire can offer." Hermione smiled in a way she hoped seemed rather seductive. "_Always leave them wanting more," _She reminded herself.

"Fine, Mione, fine," George grinned, shaking his head in an exaggeratedly regretful manner. "Hop on then," He continued, sounding significantly more upbeat.

"Ok." After a brief pause, Hermione decided to sit sidesaddle on the broom shaft. Grabbing onto George's shoulders, she gingerly sat onto the broom behind George, worried that the hovering broom wouldn't be able to support her weight. Fortunately, it remained suspended at the same distance off the ground, seemingly undeterred by the added load of Hermione sitting on the back.

"Ready to go?" George asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Ah, one sec," Hermione advised. She quickly slid her canvas ballet flats off her feet and stowed them in her beaded back that was looped over her torso. "I don't particularly fancy losing my shoes," She chuckled nervously. Even with George's assurance that he was an expert flyer and that she had nothing to worry about, flying still made Hermione uncomfortable. Images of the worst possible scenarios flashed through her mind as she moved her hands to George's waist. Grasping on as tightly has she could, she pulled herself up the broom until she was pressed snugly against George. "Ok, I think I'm ready."

"Alright, hold on tight," George suggested needlessly; Hermione's grasp was already as secure as possible.

"Ok, let's go," Hermione yelled with a forced confidence. George effortlessly kicked off against the grass and they soared up into the sky. As they ascended at a rapid pace, Hermione shut her eyes and held tight to George, burying her face into his back and entwining her fingers through his belt loops. It wasn't until she felt their plane level that Hermione finally opened her eyes. Looking down at the vastness beneath them, Hermione was shocked to see London so far in the distance that it resembled like a toy city. The streets and cars were still visible, but they hardly looked life-like, they were so small. From their shockingly lofty height, Hermione felt as if she could see all across the county. She even noticed the seaside and the rolling, white-capped waves of the ocean. The different colours of the country fields beneath them were spread out like a patchwork quilt. The distance was dizzying and Hermione once again pushed her face into George's back, content to look at the grey cotton of his shirt rather than taking in what laid below. With her eyes centred on George's back, Hermione didn't have to acknowledge how truly high off the ground they were and how devastating a fall from that distance would be.

"You doing all right, Hermione?" George turned his head and yelled from in front of her. Much of his voice was lost in the rushing wind and Hermione could only barely hear him.

"I think so," She intentionally chuckled, hoping to mask her trepidation.

"We won't be much longer," George reassured. "Just keep holding on,"

"Ok," Hermione replied to his back. As intimidating as the flight was, Hermione was glad that she was completing it with George. His body was warm next to hers and served as a shield from the chilly air that they were rushing through at breathtaking speed. Also, the way he was sitting on the broom was so light and casual that it encouraged Hermione to ease up a little on her grasp, knowing that she needn't be so tense; George had it all under control.

After they had been flying for a mere half-hour, but what felt much longer to Hermione, George expertly began to guide the broom into its descent. Hermione gripped his waist as they gently landed on the grass. Immediately, Hermione hopped off the broom, grateful to have her feet on solid ground. She still felt a lingering dizziness from the flight and it took a moment until she felt entirely secure upon the ground.

"Wait up, George," She instructed, noticing that George was pointing towards a dilapidated old cottage that lay ahead of them.

"You alright, Mione," He asked. Hermione nodded as she riffled through her beaded bag, easily finding her canvas shoes and sliding them onto her feet. "Ready to go?"

"Yup," Hermione answered brightly, accepting George's hand with hers.

"So, that wasn't so bad, was it?" George smiled, leaning down to kiss Hermione on her cheek. "You were quite a great passenger actually,"

"Oh, really? Because I'm pretty sure I just sat there," Hermione responded cheekily.

"But you sat there very well indeed," George chuckled, hoisting the broom over his shoulder and beginning the walk towards the cottage.

"Well…good to know," Hermione smiled. Her demeanor was rapidly improving ever since she had gotten off the broom. Even though she was mainly doubtful about George's suggestion that Matilda Malvena McGuire might be helpful for her work, she was still excited about the adventure of it all. Quickly they approached the cottage. Hermione was sure that the small, house had seen significantly better days. The brick of the walk was chipped and cracked in multiple places. Most of the shutters had fallen off the cloudy windows and the roof looked as if it could use a serious touch up. The door might have once been a vibrant red, but it was now a dull rust colour. The only thing about the residence that wasn't ramshackle was the garden. The garden was filled with vivid flowers of a wide array of colours. Tulips, pansies, daffodils, rhododendrons and lilacs filled the area around the house. Everything was organized perfectly, ensuring a visually appealing colour palliate. No flower was out of line and not a single weed was visible. Hermione was sure that Ms. McGuire – while she may not care about the appearance of her house – was quite meticulous about taking care of her garden.

"Well, shall we?" George asked, motioning to Hermione that they should continue up the fractured walk.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, ambling up the walk, George still by her side. Reaching the house, she lifted her fist and knocked on the peeling paint of the old door with three solid raps.

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading. Please take the time to leave a comment or a suggestion. It's always awesome to hear feed back! And I love being able to incorporate suggestions whenever I can! _


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I've finally finished exams [YAYYYYY!] so I'm hoping that I'll get back on track and start updating more frequently. Thanks for bearing with me and the slow updates for the last little while! – SJ [PS. Anyone else going through exams, good luck!] _

Hermione waited after she had knocked soundly on the door of Matilda Malvena McGuire's old cottage. No one came to the door.

"Hmm…do you think she's here?" She turned to ask George.

"I assume she is…she knew we were going to come today," George replied, peeking through the four-paned window at the top of the weathered door. "I don't see anyone coming," He continued, backing off from the door.

"That's odd…should we leave?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," George responded. The pair stood in confusion before Matilda Malvena McGuire's cottage, glancing at each other while silently questioning their location.

"Aye, who's there? 'ello?"

Hermione turned a saw an old woman emerge from the garden. She wore a faded blue dress and comically large, circular glasses. Her tight, white curls were cut close to her head. Mud covered, oversized black wellingtons were on her feet and she carried a small red bucket and a trowel, confirming Hermione's suspicion that the garden, unlike the rest of the house, was diligently tended. A small House Elf was cowering behind the long skirt of the elderly woman's dress, warily peering out at Hermione and George through massive, golden, cat-like eyes.

"'ello?" The woman reiterated, phrasing her greeting as a question.

"Oh, hello," George responded. "I'm George Weasley…I was in contact with you last week. This is my girlfriend Hermione Granger."

"Aye," The woman nodded in recognition of the names. Hermione's eyes widened slightly at George's method of describing her: she hadn't heard him refer to her as his girlfriend before.

"Ah, you must be Matilda Malvena McGuire, I assume," Hermione quickly composed herself and asked in a polite voice.

"Aye, that I am," The woman responded, her voice thick with inflection. "Would ye like to come'n, dears," She asked, bypassing the pair and unlatching the door to her cottage.

"That would be brilliant," George grinned, guiding Hermione through the door after Matilda with his hand on the small of her back.

"I 'ear yer interested in the Elves eh," Matilda spoke as the pair entered her house.

"I am," Hermione responded. "I was hoping you'd be able to help me. I'm working on establishing a case for them to present to the Ministry."

"Aye, yer lad filled me in on that, sweetie," Matilda grinned, revealing her yellowing teeth. "I'm sure I can 'elp ye. I've a real collection er tidbits. Yer more than welcomed to 'ave a look."

"That would be lovely," Hermione smiled gratefully. She was still doubtful that she'd find something useful at Matilda's, but the woman was welcoming and it was comforting to know that she had an ally in the House Elf cause, notwithstanding how helpful that ally might actually prove to be.

"Follow me, eh," Matilda motioned, leading the way down her narrow hall. "Er'thing's in another room." Hermione and George silently followed the elderly woman. Hermione noticed that George had to slightly hunch his shoulders in order to walk comfortably under the low ceiling. The scrawny House Elf continued to scamper shyly beside Matilda, possessively holding onto a fistful of the woman's skirt. "Aye, this er's Mittens MacGuffin," Matilda explained, gesturing to the House Elf who continued to shuffle along with her head down. "She's named that 'cause when she camed to me, she'd notin' but mittens that er owner 'ad giv'n'er in a fit o' rage. She could barely stand when she found me. So 'ungry, wot. Tey Did't even give'er a name, eh," Matilda shook her head angrily. Hermione immediately began to respect the older woman more at the sound of the distain in her voice when she spoke of the House Elf having been owned and the resentment she exhibited over the manner in which her friend had been treated. "Aye, warms me to see a young'un like ye take'n up on the cause," The elderly woman said admiringly to Hermione.

"Erm, thanks," Hermione felt her face flush. She was certain that Matilda wouldn't speak as proudly if she was aware of how limited Hermione's progress on the issue had thus far been.

"Woll, 'ere we are," Matilda mentioned once they walked a ways down the narrow hall, stopping when they reached a doorway. "Wud ye care for a spot o' tea?"

"No, I'm fine,"

"That's quite alright,"

"Ver' good…If ye need me, I'll be back in me garden," Matilda turned to retreat back down the hall with Mittens, the House Elf, still hovering behind her.

"Alright," Hermione replied. The situation left her somewhat confused. She wasn't sure if she was to just look around at Matilda's house at will. She had assumed that the woman would offer her more guidance on how to use her research. However, Matilda clearly trusted Hermione and George in her house without her.

"Come 'long, Mittens," Matilda said as she disappeared back outside the house.

"Hmm…what's the plan now?" Hermione asked George once they were alone.

"I have no idea," George laughed with good-natured amusement. "I suppose we just look through this room," He shrugged, opening up the door that lead to the room that Matilda had indicated was the one they needed.

"Ok," Hermione returned his nonchalant tone and followed George through the doorway. The room was small and cluttered. Knickknacks, figurines, and books overflowed in the corners and boxes upon boxes, all of which were covered with a noticeable layer of dust, were stacked against the back wall. "Yikes," Hermione coughed, producing her wand from her beaded bag to quickly cast a spell that cleared the room of dust. "What's going on here?" She asked, entering the room and studying the stacks of boxes. "Can you open that window? Get some air in here?" She asked George while pulling one of the top boxes off the stack and onto the threadbare, maroon carpet that covered the small room.

"Of course," George grinned, wrestling open the jammed window that had clearly not been opened for some time. "What we got here?" He continued, kneeling next to Hermione in front of the box.

"I have no idea," Hermione replied, already opening the box and riffling through its contents. The first thing she pulled out was a heavy file folder filled with a stack of wrinkled parchment.

"What's that?" George asked reading the parchment over Hermione's shoulder.

"Hmm…looks as if Ms. McGuire has conducted a series of interviews with a bunch of House Elves…this seems to be the compilation of her research," Hermione muttered, continuing to leaf through the pages on her lap. "Wow…there must be dozens of interviews here…I think that she has devoted her life to this," Hermione spoke appreciatively; she had not expected to ever encounter someone who was even more devoted to the House Elf cause than she.

"Hmm…this file contains even more interviews," George mentioned, pulling a duplicate file folder from the same box. "So what's the plan of attack?" He asked, not looking up from his own stack of parchment. "Should we just read through these in hopes of finding something useful?"

"I suppose." Hermione had no clue what she was to be looking for, but hoped that something relevant might reveal itself to her. She crossed her legs beneath her and started reading meticulously through the top page from her file folder. Nothing in the interview seemed particularly helpful, but Hermione continue to read it carefully. She experienced much of the same results with the next file folder as well as the half-dozen subsequent ones; there was no vital piece of information, or perfect quote, or intrinsic statistic that would conclusively claim her victory in front of the Ministry. Rather, much of the evidence she found was repetitive occurrences of useful information. After finishing the pages in her current file folder, Hermione sighed dejectedly.

"What is it Mione?" George asked caringly.

"Ugh, have you noticed anything helpful yet?"

"No…but I'm hoping. You?"

"No," Hermione groaned. "If anything, this is the opposite of helpful. Based on these interviews, you'd think that the House Elves appreciate the situation…that they'd prefer to be continued to be treated as subservient beings."

"Yup, I've noticed that too," George forced a strained smile. "This one is particularly bad," He cleared his throat and read off his page: "_Question: what do you think of your daily routine?...Answer: Clancy like dishys…Clancy like cleany._"

"Ugh, I'm getting much of the same," Hermione muttered dolefully. "Here's one of mine," She paused before reading a hand-written interview off the page in her hand: "_Question: What would you change about your life if you could?...Nothing, Max love master. Master always right. Master know best." _Hermione tossed the page down and sighed once again. "I don't know George…Are House Elves conditioned to think and talk like this or is it something in their disposition? Or are they just uncomfortable with talking out against their owners. Ugh…this whole situation is just so confusing." Hermione was aware that her words were coming faster and sounded more and more dejected, but she continued to speak in a rushed way regardless, finally venting her pent up frustration. "I'm starting to worry that I could read every book in the library and dig through all these boxes and find absolutely nothing." She paused and frowned at George. It wasn't like her to give up on a project, but the unproductive time in the library was starting to build up and it seemed more and more as if her search was entirely futile.

For a moment silence existed between her and George while Hermione fought to keep her expression stoic, knowing that showing her emotions might result in tears of frustration. George blinked twice and licked his upper lip, looking as if he was carefully thinking through his words before finally speaking.

"Hermione, do you think maybe you're looking at this the wrong way?" He asked, quietly and speculatively.

"What do you mean?"

"Well" – George paused – "Maybe instead of digging through all this, hoping to find something useful…maybe you should return to what bothered you about the House Elf situation to begin with."

"Hmm…" Hermione considered his words. "In what way?"

"There was obviously something about the situation that bothered you in the first place…on a gut level I suppose," George answered immediately with an encouraging smile. "Try to recapture what that was…others might realize it bothers them too,"

"I don't know…what if I was wrong to begin with…what if the status quo really is what's best for everyone?" Hermione's rising tone was steeped in disappointment as she let the papers in her hand fall into her lap. "I just wonder…what if I'm just sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Maybe I'm not needed here in the way I think I am. Maybe everyone is just better off without my involvement….I mean…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the thought to linger uncompleted.

"Really? Do you mean to tell me that the smartest woman I know would have championed a cause in the way you did and be wrong about it?" George chuckled admiringly. "Hermione, I think you've always been right…just try and go back and remember what upset you in the first place…I honestly believe that it will get you on the right path."

"Maybe," Hermione sighed, intentionally putting her outburst behind her. She sat back on her heals for a moment and took several large breaths, filling her lungs with the stale air of the stuffy room. Begrudgingly, she located another file folder of parchments from the fourth box and started flipping through the pages. Midway through the stack she gasped, her gaze falling on one piece in particular: "Sweet Merlin…George, look at this,"

"What is it?" He asked, leaning in to read the parchment over her shoulder.

"Interview subject number Eighty-Seven" – Hermione read aloud – "Dobby." She paused and studied the tiny, grainy picture in the corner of the parchment. It was undeniably Harry Potter's loyal House Elf friend shyly grinning back at her. As she stared at the familiar image in the picture, her heart caught in her throat and her breathing slowed. "I can't believe this George…Dobby. It says here this interview was done in February of 1986…that would have been when he was still with the Malfoys…hmm…" She glanced over the page and began to read aloud sections that she thought might be pertinent: "_Masters let Dobby do dishes….Masters only beat Dobby when he's done very bad…Masters let Dobby sleep in attic._"

Once again, Hermione let the papers fall into her lap. Dobby's interview was almost identical to the ones she had been spending the afternoon sifting through. "This is hardly useful." She muttered absentmindedly. The picture of Dobby and seeing his name, however, caused her to reminisce about the last time she had seen the House Elf; the last time she would ever see the House Elf. It had been in Malfoy Manner, during a moment she hated to dwell upon. Instinctively, she rubbed her damaged forearm with her other hand. Time had not removed the scar from her arm. The translucent, white lettering still remained etched into her skin: Mudblood. Hermione gulped and thought back to how she had received the scar. The moment was still fresh in her memory. She closed her eyes and pictured the outraged hatred shinning from Bellatrix Lestrange's dark eyes. She recalled the fear she had experienced and felt tears prickling behind her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to force herself to forget, she was still hurt and haunted by the prejudice that had led to her scar's creation.

Hermione thought of Dobby's involvement in the terrible and tragic event. His intervention had prevented her injury from escalating. Hermione had long since considered the House Elf one of the bravest people that she knew. Even if others considered House Elves as less then, Hermione maintained that anyone as courageous and as willing to help his friends as Dobby had to be of the upmost of character. Hermione knew that she owed Dobby her life; without his sacrifice, her scar would have been the least of her concerns.

"George" – Her voice was barely a whisper as she was struck by a perfect realization – "I know what I need to do…I think I know how to defeat this law."

-o-O-o-

"Thank you so much for having us," Hermione commented gratefully as Matilda led them out of her cottage once an afternoon snack of herbal tea and crispy biscuits was finished. After Hermione had realized the direction in which she wanted to take her argument, she and George hadn't stayed much longer in the room full of Matilda's research. They had quickly scanned the information contained in the rest of the boxes, but were soon ready to leave. Matilda had insisted on feeding them before they left and Hermione and George had gratefully obliged.

"Eh, any time, dears," Matilda replied kindly, leading George and Hermione down the narrow hallway. "Sure 'ope you got wat ye was looking for,"

"I think I did," Hermione smiled boldly and brightly, actually convinced of the truth of her words.

"Eh, woll, I look forward to 'earing all 'bout yer talk, dearie…all te best," Matilda said.

"I'll write you as soon as it's done," Hermione eagerly responded, as she and George left the modest cottage. Her spirits were considerably brighter than they had been when she had entered Matilda's home earlier that afternoon. Where doubt had once stood regarding her project, she now only felt hopeful and confident. She knew her arguments and her tactics weren't a guarantee, but she was optimistic that she would be able to win over the necessary half of the Ministry in order to prevent the legislation that she was working so hard to fight from becoming law.

"Best o' luck," Matilda waved goodbye to the pair as they wandered down the walk. Mittens, the House Elf, continued to hide shyly behind her friend's long skirt.

"Thanks George," Hermione said once they had exited Matilda's front yard. "You were right…that turned out to be exactly what I needed…not in the way I would have expected…but exactly what I needed," She continued as she slipped her hand into his.

"I'm glad that it helped," George grinned as they entered the street in front of Matilda's home. "Now, did you want to apparate back to London or take the time to fly?"

"Well…it is lovely out," Hermione speculated glancing around her. The early evening was still light as the sun had yet to set. The sky was peppered with only a few puffy clouds and the temperature was surprisingly warm. "And I feel much better with flying now…so why don't we fly. Also, it would be nice to get the fresh air after being cooped up in that room all afternoon,"

"That's brilliant," George replied, removing his broom from its perch over his shoulder and commanding it to hover at the proper height. "Join me, won't you," He smiled after he had expertly hopped on to his broom, beckoning to Hermione to mount it behind him.

"Ok," Hermione answered. With more confidence than previously that day, she boosted herself onto George's broom handle, sitting sidesaddle and circling her arms around his waist.

"Feel free to hold me as snugly as you'd like," George said, looking over his shoulder to wink at Hermione. "I quite enjoy the feeling of having you pressed against me back there. Certainly beats flying alone."

"Fine," Hermione sighed lightheartedly, shimming up the broom to the point where she was securely next to George. "Ready to go?"

"Always," George laughed, kicking his feet against the ground to send him, Hermione, and his broom whirling up into the air. Unlike the previous takeoff, Hermione didn't burry her face into George's shirt. Instead, she watched as they soared away from the earth, amusedly and contently observing the sight of the Matilda's peaceful countryside village disappearing into the distance. Soon the pair was high above the ground. Hermione found herself enjoying the flight: the feeling of rapidly cutting through the chilly air, the warmth of George's torso next to hers, and the fascinating sight of the countryside beneath them. Her grip loosened as their flight continued and she realized that there was little to worry about. Even though the broom seemed precarious, it really wasn't; George was too proficient of a flyer for her to worry.

"You doing alright back there, Mione," George asked looking over his shoulder at his passenger.

"Yup," Hermione replied flippantly. Her seat on the broom was much more relaxed than it had been for the arrival flight, when her posture had been tense and rigid. Boldly, she lifted one hand from George's waist and held it out to her side. The air whipped through her fingers, pushing her hand up and down with its current. Hermione smiled; the feeling was one of exhilaration rather than fear.

"Ok, well, we're about to go through a cloud coverage," George cautioned, returning his gaze to their path. Hermione shivered as they flew directly into one of the thick, heavy clouds. Moisture surrounded her and she could no longer see George's head in front of her, let along the ground so far beneath her. She was vaguely aware that her hunter green sweater was becoming damp and that droplets of water from the cloud were culminating on her forehead, cheeks, and eyelashes. She returned her once free hand to George's hips and held on a little snugger than she had before.

"This is bizarre," Hermione commented aloud, realizing that her words were lost in the thick haze even as she spoke them. George obviously hadn't heard her as he didn't acknowledge or respond in anyway. They pair continued to work their way through the dense cumulus cloud. Hermione looked forward to when they would be out of the covering; she wanted to be able to breathe the clear air once again and to enjoy the surrounding view. Also, there was something significantly off putting about being unable to see even seven centimeters ahead. Hermione's trepidation only grew as they continued to zip through the cloud. In front of her, George's body tensed and his back grew rigid; something that Hermione should have taken as a sign to hold on with all her effort.

"Oh bloody hell! Hold on Mione!" George screamed, but his shout was muffled almost entirely by prevailing moisture and rapid movement. Suddenly, she was thrown forwards: she bounced up off the broom, her chin smacked against George's back, her grip was jostled, and she lost her sturdy hold around George's waist.

"Wh-wha-" Hermione hollered in return, struggling to maintain her tenuous mount on the narrow broom handle. Her words were cut off when, violently and unexpectedly, the broom shot up, sending their path severely off course. As the pair zoomed directly upwards, Hermione was certain she heard a loud squawking and thought she saw a mass of bluish-grey feathers in the corner of her vision.

"Hermione!" George's voice sounded even more distant than his previous yell had. Hermione's stomach churned, her hands trembled, and her mind raced with thoughts of disaster as all senses of bearing were entirely discombobulated by the thick veil of clouds and the unexpected swerve. All she was aware of was that something was going tremendously wrong.

The broom continued to zoom upwards and Hermione struggled to maintain her obviously too loose grip around George's waist. She wished feverously that she hadn't opted for the sidesaddle mount and that she was able to hold her position with her thighs and not just the weak tips of her fingers. As the force from the sudden upwards movement and gravity culminated catastrophically, Hermione's grip continued to slip. Horrified, she was instantly aware that she was grasping at nothing but air as she frantically ricocheted backwards, effortlessly tossed like a feeble ragdoll at the maniacal will of the elements.

A deafening scream filled Hermione's ears, but she lacked the wherewithal to know if she or George had created the sound.

"Mione!"

Hermione's head throbbed as it viciously slammed into the butt end of George's broom with a horrifying thud. A bright light shattered in front of her eyes. Hermione's vision flickered and her mind spun uncontrollably, but she was cognitive enough to realize that she was rapidly plummeting. Her limbs flailed uselessly as she began to descend at a shocking acceleration to the earth so far below.

_Author's Note: I know, I know…cliffhanger. I'm sorry. Yah, lots happened in this chapter and I'll try to update very soon. Please leave a comment if you get the chance! Hearing from people is so very much appreciated! _


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four **

_Author's note: Yikes guys! So sorry to take so long to update. This writer's block is soooo frustrating and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere. Thanks so much for reading anyways! Not mine. Sorry about any double updates - I had to make a couple corrections. _

"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!"

As the anxious repetition of her own name filled her awareness, Hermione's heavy eyelids flickered and she finally opened her eyes, attempting to take in her surroundings.

"Oh sweet Merlin….y-you're ok…y-you-you…I-I," George breathed fervently. Hermione struggled to sit up, trying to figure out in what sort of situation she had found herself.

"Wh-what," She faltered, desperately trying to remember how she had ended up lying on the grass with George cradling her head in his lap. Once again, she attempted to push herself up to a seating position, but George wrapped his arms tighter around her, maintaining her position of lying partially on the grass and partially in his lap.

"Stay down, Mione…that's probably the best," He advised, gently stoking her disheveled hair.

"What's happening, George?" Hermione asked with a dazed smile, raking the excesses of her mind, hoping to recall the events that had culminated with her lying prone on the grass with her head cradled in George's lap.

"You don't remember?" George's voice was steeped with concern.

"I fell…I think," Hermione murmured. The longer she was awake, the more her memories returned. Slowly, she remembered the cloud, the accident, and the sensation of falling. Anything after that, however, remained a mystery.

"It was awful…you fell" – George's words flowed quickly and feverously – "It was awful, I was so worried." Hermione glanced up at his face and thought she saw tears forming in his eyes. His hair was haphazardly falling over his face, his skin was paler than natural, and his eyes glowed with concern. "I got to you in time…I had my wand and reached you in time and used Wingardium Leviosa and you stopped falling…but you were already out cold…you-you hit your head on my broom…when you fell…we hit a bird…I couldn't see it…it was awful," He reiterated, reaching up to wipe sweat off his brow and something else out of his eyes.

"George," Hermione gasped, again attempting to sit up. Her head still gently throbbed, but her mind was significantly less muddied.

"Just stay down, Mione," George instructed kindly yet firmly. "I need to take you to the Healer's." Hermione had never seen him so distraught and frazzled before. He was completely unlike his normal cool and composed self. Had she been able to look at the situation objectively, she would have found it very odd how he was the one who was so frantic and upset while she seemed serene and tranquil, even though she had been the one to suffer the worst from the accident.

"My bag! My wand!" Hermione exclaimed with a startling concern. Her hands shot to her sides as she felt for her beaded bag, not knowing if it had survived the fall or been lost in the process.

"I got that too," George commented, producing her essential beaded bag from his side. "But it's you I'm worried about."

"I'm fine, George," Hermione asserted. Her mind was starting to clear and the pain that had affected her head was beginning to subside. "I can't believe I passed out like that…I should have been ready…I should have been able to stop myself mid-fall…if I had my wand handy…" She quietly reprimanded her own inaction, knowing that she shouldn't have had to rely on George to save her like that.

"No, Mione…don't dwell on that," George comforted, continuing to cradle Hermione on the soft grass, holding her head snugly next to his chest. "I was there…it's not your fault that you lost consciousness there…you really hit your head hard…and that's why I have to get you to a Healers."

"Ugh, really? I'm sure I'm fine," Hermione sighed.

"No…that's not a risk I'm willing to take," George forced a grin. "I'm a beater, remember. I know the importance of dealing with a blow to the head. I'm taking you to a Healer's…nothing you say will prevent that."

"Fine," Hermione murmured, realizing it was an argument that she had already lost. "Where are we anyways?"

"Several kilometers outside of London. I'm so sorry, Hermione…we were so close…I really…I'm a better flying…I-I feel like rubbish," George stammered.

"No George. It was unforeseeable. You couldn't have known that we'd hit a bird," Hermione reassured him.

"I still feel awful," George whispered. "I thought it was- I thought I lo-" He faltered, clearly unwilling to complete the thought. "We should get you to a Healer," He said instead in an overly bright tone. "Do you think you could apparate alright? I don't know if your head will be able to take it."

"I'm sure it will be alright," Hermione replied after some speculation. Her head was feeling much better: it no longer spun and her memories of the event had solidified. The queasiness that had been prevailing in her stomach when she had come to was already subsiding.

"Ok…we'll let's go," George replied, pulling Hermione even closer to his torso, gently kissing her on the forehead before instantaneously traveling to the intended destination.

-o-O-o-

"We should be in to see a Healer shortly," George said, returning from the receptionist's desk in the waiting room at Saint Mugno's emergency ward. Hermione lounged dozily in one of the plastic waiting room chairs.

"Alight," She muttered absentmindedly while George sat into the chair beside her.

"How are you feeling, Mione," He asked caringly as Hermione rested her head against his shoulder.

"Hmm…" Hermione sighed, letting the full weight of her head sink into George. The throbbing was gone but the back of her head that had struck the broom handle was still tender to the touch.

"No, Mione…no…don't fall asleep," George cautioned, coaxing Hermione to sit upright. "The Healer will see you soon and we can find out if you can sleep…but right now stay up and talk with me."

"Ok," Hermione stifled a yawn. "So I think I'll be able to write my speech soon…for the Ministry," She commented on the first topic that sprung to her mind.

"That's great, Mione," George grinned. "When do I get to hear it?"

"When it's finished, I suppose," Hermione shrugged.

"What if I'd like to hear it now?" George questioned teasingly, leaning down to kiss Hermione's nose.

"It's not finished George…it's not even started."

"Why don't you just give me the gist of it?"

"Well…When I saw that picture of Dobby I got to thinking–" Hermione started before she was interrupted by a petite nurse in a white smock entering the waiting area.

"Miss Granger," The nurse announced, scanning the waiting patience. "Is there a Miss Granger here?"

"Oh, that's me," Hermione stated. She started to stand up on her own, but George quickly hopped up and bent over to lift Hermione out of her chair. "I can manage, George."

"Could you let me help? For my sake?" George asked, volunteering his hand.

"Alright," Hermione commented idly, accepting George's offering. Cautiously, she rose from her chair while George looped his arm around her waist. Leaning against him for support – her legs still slightly wobbly from the shock of the fall – she slowly made her way across the waiting room, following the nurse through a pair of swinging double doors and down the hall to a small room. "Is it alright if George waits for the Healer with me?" Hermione asked as the nurse lead them into the room and instructed Hermione to sit upon a paper-covered bench.

"Of course…as long as you're fine with it, he can stay here…Healer Roe should be in to see you shortly," The petite nurse responded affably before leaving the room.

"How are you feeling?" George asked anxiously for the umpteenth time once he and Hermione were alone.

"I'm sure I'm fine, George," Hermione assertively reiterated. "I don't think I hit my head that hard…yah, it was a bit scary, but I'll be ok," She spoke clearly and her smile was natural.

"I'm still going to worry about you," George grinned leaning in to give Hermione a snug embrace as she continued to perch on the Healer's bench. "You have to understand, it was incredibly frightening for me to see you fall like that," He added, gently ruffling the back of Hermione's hair.

"Oh hello,"

George withdrew his hug as the pair was interrupted by a voice at the door. Hermione looked up and saw the Healer standing in the doorway. She was a spindly middle aged witch with a severe brunette bob and a kindly face.

"Ah…hello," Hermione volunteered, nodding at the Healer.

"Hello…I'm Healer Eugenia Roe," The woman stated in a clipped tone. "I understand you suffered a blow to the head,"

"Yes," Hermione shyly admitted, embarrassed by the circumstances.

"It was more than that," George added in a caring voice. "She also fell…didn't hit the ground or anything…but could have suffered shock from that."

"I don't think I did," Hermione murmured.

"Well…let's have a look, then, shall we," Healer Roe said matter-of-factly, placing her file folder on a counter. "Here…look at me," She instructed, shinning a piercing white light from the tip of her wand into Hermione's eyes. "Hmm…" She muttered, continuing to deftly run a series of tests on Hermione. "Can you list words that begin with the letter R for me, Miss Granger?"

"Ahh…" – Hermione paused – "Reconnaissance…retribution…rehabilitation…repugnance…"

"Very good, Miss Granger," Healer Roe stopped Hermione before she could continue her list.

"Hmm…I probably would have gone with rooster, rain, or raft," George's chuckle was palpably filled with relief. "So, does she look ok, Healer?"

"Oh, yes," Healer Roe replied with a brief nod. "She'll be fine. No concession signs. Sounds like you got quite lucky, Miss Granger."

"Yup, I would hate to think what would have happened without George's fast thinking," Hermione smiled widely in George's direction. George, however, was watching the Healer carefully and missed Hermione's grin.

"So what's the protocol moving forward, Healer?" He asked concernedly.

"Hmmm…" Healer Roe hummed absentmindedly. "Just keep an eye on her…make sure she doesn't show any worrisome signs…pain…dizziness…forgetfulness…headaches. Miss Granger, you'll probably want to be woken up every few hours tonight…just as a precaution….do you have someone you could stay with?"

"Ah, I think so," Hermione speculated, assuming that either Ginny or Holly would willingly welcome her to stay the night.

"Of course she does," George hurriedly answered the Healer's question.

"Alright, well just take it easy Miss Granger and come back for a follow-up sometime this week,"

"Ok," Hermione replied glad to be done at the Healer's office. "Thanks for your time."

"Thanks" – George repeated – "Alright, let's get you out of here," George turned to Hermione and handed her the beaded bag that he had been holding on to. "You can stay with me," He offered as they left the Healer's room. "I'll even take the couch so that you can sleep in my bed."

"Thanks George," Hermione appreciatively slipped her hand into George's outstretched one.

"It's not a problem," George laughed. "Obviously I'd love to have you over. We should write Mum when we're at my place…let her know what happened and that you're ok,"

"Ugh, really?" Hermione asked. "Is that necessary? Wouldn't it just cause her to worry needlessly even though I'm alright?"

"I suppose" George replied opening Saint Mungo's main door to let Hermione out into the pervading evening air. "It's your call." He shrugged, looping his arm over Hermione's shoulders to pull her closer to his torso. Hermione hadn't expected to be out so late and only had her flimsy sweater on. She gratefully leaned into George, appreciating the heat that radiated from his chest.

"Alight…I'll tell them the next time I see them in person if need be," Hermione decided resolutely.

"Want to walk to my place? Pick up some curry or something on the way home?" George asked, diverting the subject away from Hermione's accident.

"Alight," She smiled broadly at him, glad to have the opportunity to spend another evening with him.

-o-O-o-

"Thanks for supper," Hermione commented, cleaning off the dishes that she and George had eaten off of in his large, metallic sink.

"Well…I worked very hard on it," George chuckled, playfully nudging Hermione aside so that he could toss the empty food containers into the trash can below the sink.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't delicious," Hermione grinned, washing her hands and drying them with a checked towel that lay on the counter beside George's sink.

"You're delicious," George replied with a sly smile, placing both his hands on Hermione's hips.

"Are you serious, that was so corny," Hermione giggled reproachfully, entwining her hands behind George's neck nevertheless.

"Yah, I'm aware…I realized it as soon as I said it," George laughed, leaning down to find Hermione's lips with his mouth.

"Hmm…" She sighed, happily returning his kiss.

"Come on, Mione, let's go to the living room for a bit," George hastily suggested, gently running his thumb across Hermione's cheek.

"Let's do that," She quickly concurred, taking George by his hand to lead him into his own living room. Without awaiting his cue, she pushed him into sitting on the couch and flopped down exceptionally close to him.

"Well…aren't we aggressive," George commented appreciatively.

"Is that a problem?" Hermione asked with a teasing voice.

"Hardly…furthest thing from a problem in fact…if anything, I would like it if you were to be more aggressive."

"I don't know if that's what Healer Roe had in mind when she suggested I take it easy," Hermione grinned pointedly, swinging her legs so that they were over top of George's lap.

"Ugh…I conveniently forgot about the good Healer's orders," George replied, tenderly running his hand along Hermione's outer leg from her hip to her knee.

"And you were the one who was so keen that I see the Healer," Hermione pointed out, placing her hands on George's shoulders.

"Silly me," George murmured, moving his hands so that he was embracing Hermione. Eagerly, Hermione reciprocated George's kiss when he hugged her close enough to find her lips with his. Neither bothered to speak again after George's aside; both were far too absorbed in the electricity of their moment. As they kissed, Hermione didn't prevent things from escalating. It was as if a dam had burst within her conscious. The things that she had been unintentionally holding back before, she no longer felt the need to reign in. All the arguments that had convinced her tread carefully with George quickly disappeared. She considered how caring he had been after her accident, how supportive he had been at the hospital and the lingering worries that she had sustained since George had told her he was interested in her rapidly subsided. Instead of maintaining her reservations, Hermione sought George's mouth with her full effort and pinned him on the couch almost to the point of tackling him. George obviously didn't seem repealed by Hermione's newfound aggression, as he responded with a matched enthusiasm of his own.

Hermione sighed as George firmly massaged her back with both hands as she lay partially on the couch and partially across him. As she returned his kisses feverously, her head felt dazed, but she knew it was from George, not from the bump she had suffered earlier. Hermione ran her hands through George's damp shaggy hair, shuddering when she reached his injured ear and the ragged wound that surrounded it. Gently, she traced a circle around the opening, concerned that, even after so many years it might still be sensitive to her touch. Without removing her lips from his, she moved her hands to his arms, eagerly stroking his taut muscles. Her heart raced as George continued to explore her back, gently pushing aside her light sweater so that he could caress her bare skin. Every surface that he covered shivered with pleasure. His touch was as welcomed as ever. The Quidditch-related calluses on his fingertips were rough against her delicate skin, but they didn't subtract from her enjoyment in the least. Hermione didn't attempt to stop him when he ran his hands all the way up her back or moved them down her body to the backs of her upper thighs.

Time was a blur as the pair continued to enjoy themselves on George's couch. Hermione's lips were chapped and her head felt light, but not a single iota of her being wanted to stop.

"Mione, do you think it's time for bed?" George hesitantly asked her, reluctantly removing his lips from hers. "I'm just wondering if it's best that you sleep."

"Ugh, I suppose," Hermione muttered regretfully. As much as she would prefer remaining on George's couch with him, she knew that he was right. "I guess it's quite late…and I should get some sleep."

"Ok…well I'll go dig out an extra blanket for me…I'll take the couch,"

"Hmmm…you don't have too," Hermione replied hesitantly, hoping she wasn't unnecessarily crossing an unacknowledged boundary. "I don't mind sharing your bed with you…But just to sleep mind you," Hermione added pointedly. "If you recall, I'm not to over exert myself," She laughed self-consciously, hoping that the joke might mask her slight discomfort. Even though she was becoming more and more secure with George, she wasn't quite prepared to take things to a whole other level.

"That would be brilliant," George responded immediately, climbing of the couch while simultaneously lifting Hermione up with him. "I'll lead the way," He smiled widely, encircling his arm around Hermione's waist and wandering towards his hallway. Hermione silently walked along beside him, hoping that her offer was the correct decision. As George led her into his room, she concluded that it was; after all, it wasn't as if she was driving things along unduly rapidly with her suggestion.

"I don't think I've ever seen your room before," Hermione chuckled. Unlike the rest of his flat, his room wasn't marked by its starkness. A large bed stood in one corner and a substantial dresser drawers in another. Several bright red posters and banners for his Quidditch team, Puddlemore United, adorned the white walls. Clothes were atop the dresser draws and several shirts were scattered messily across a chair that stood across from his bed. Until she saw the collection of his wardrobe all in one place, Hermione hadn't realized just how much blue and grey George wore. Almost all the wrinkled tops that were lying around his room were of bright blue, dark blue, navy, grayish blues, or bluish grey; only the occasional bright red Puddlemore United top broke up the uniformed colour scheme. Stacks of Quidditch playbooks were strewn across the bright orange duvet on his bed.

"Oh wow, sorry about the mess," George mumbled, letting go of Hermione's hand and quickly stacking the books and resting them on the floor. "I wasn't exactly expecting a guest." He smiled in his crooked way that Hermione knew she was incapable of resisting.

"It's fine," She hurriedly encouraged. Other than the clothes, George's room was hardly cluttered. "Ah, I know this is odd to ask, but you wouldn't happen to have any pajama pants would you?" Hermione questioned, recalling how uncomfortably sleeping in jeans could be.

"Oh totally…" George smiled. "One sec," He dropped her hand and riffled through one of the many drawers of his dresser. "Here you are," He added, dropping several garments on the bed. "I'll let you change."

Once George had left, Hermione slid on the clothes he had passed to her. Both his checkered flannel pants and Puddlemore United shirt were far too large, but Hermione cinched the drawstring and rolled up the bottoms of the pants to make George's clothes work for her. Shyly, she crawled onto his bed, but didn't burrow beneath the vibrant duvet quite yet, opting to wait instead for George. Shortly George returned to the room, wearing only his flimsy, tight white undershirt and bright blue boxer shorts.

"Ok, you look amazing," George grinned, joining Hermione on top of his bed. "I think you should only where my clothes," He said, scoping Hermione into his arms.

"I don't know about that," Hermione replied self-consciously. She didn't mention it, but he also looked properly amazing in his pajama clothing. His shirt was tight enough to demonstrate his well-built torso and his flimsy shorts made her feel awkward in only the most pleasant ways. George leaned back onto his bed and Hermione followed him. She smiled as he quickly cast a spell to turn the lights out and cuddled her close to his torso. Filled with delight, Hermione sunk into George, enjoying the feeling of his warmth beside her. She rested her hand on his broad chest and listened to the repetitive and comforting sound of his breathing. George's strong arms encircled her body allowing the entire length of their bodies to touch. Hermione was grateful for the security she felt next to George: a welcomed departure from the fear she had felt following their accident that day on George's broom. Hermione sighed and lay with a grateful heaviness. Her heart beat slowed while all her doubts and concerns quelled. It didn't take her long to drift into a blissful sleep.

_Author's Note: Sorry again about the delay. Please leave a comment, encouragement, or review and make my day! Any tips for getting rid of writer's block would be particularly welcomed…_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_Author's Note: YIKES! So I completely forgot how hectic the holidays can be. Was out of town visiting family throughout and didn't get an opportunity to do any writing. I'm sure you've all assumed that I've stopped updating, but I haven't. Just been horribly lazy. But I to have something exciting coming up soon! Back now and no excuses. Will hopefully be back to posting regularly. Thanks for reading! So, so, so appreciated! And a very, very special thanks to everyone who sent me PMs in my absence to make sure I was ok. Happy Belated Holidays to all! As always, not mine. _

"You're up already?" Hermione yawned and glanced up from her prone position, her head still lying heavily into George's pillow, her vision slowly flickering into focus. George was already up: bumbling around his bedroom and fumbling through his strewn clothes to get dressed in his Quidditch gear.

"'fraid so," George smiled, sitting down on his bed next to Hermione. "Early flying practice today before this afternoon's game…but you're more than welcomed to stay."

"Mmm…" Hermione sighed, burrowing even deeper into George's bright orange duvet.

"Did you sleep well, Mione?" George asked, reaching over to stroke Hermione's hair; the only part of her that was visible from her orange cocoon.

"Ermm…yup," Hermione replied groggily with a silly grin decorating her face as she peeked out from under the cover at George. Even with George waking her ever several hours to check on her well-being following her flying accident, she had still received a decent night's sleep curled up next to George. "I feel bad though….I didn't know you had to get up so early for Quidditch. I hope I won't affect your play later today."

"Oh no, I'll be fine," George laughed self-confidently. "Are you coming to my game? I'll definitely be at my best if you're there."

"I'll come," Hermione replied. She hadn't intended attending George's game – planning, instead to do work – but was certain that she wouldn't be at her best anyway, given her accident the day before. "I think it would be better to watch you play than to spend the day cooped up in the library yet again."

"Do you have to go back to the library? I thought you already had everything under control for your speech."

"There's always more work to do," Hermione grinned knowingly and resolutely. "But I could use an afternoon off. I deserve it after the significant strides I made yesterday."

"Brilliant," George leaned down and kissed Hermione's forehead before springing off his bed with an extra enthusiasm in his step. "A ticket will be waiting for you in the box office. See you after the game, sweetie."

"Sweetie?" Hermione smiled, appreciating his use of a pet name despite her inquisition.

"Would you prefer sweetums?"

"Hmmm…not sure…"

"How about doll face?" George laughed, running his hand through his shaggy hair in his frustratingly appealing way.

"Definitely not that one," Hermione chuckled, sitting up on George's bed with his duvet still wrapped snugly around her.

"Hmm…dearie…princess…bobbet…angel…honeycakes?"

"Each of those is more atrocious than the last," Hermione giggled impishly. "Perhaps you should stick to Quidditch and leave the nicknames to others."

"Well…I'll think about it," George responded, bending over to kiss Hermione tenderly on the lips, to which she eagerly reciprocated.

"I won't wait with bated breath," Hermione teased, kissing George on his chin before he could straighten his posture.

"I'll see you at the game, my beautiful unicorn," George chuckled, pointing at Hermione as he left his room.

"I don't even think that is a compliment!" Hermione called to his disappearing back, contently reclining into George's back, gratefully for additional sleep before she'd return to her flat to get ready to go cheer on George's Quittitch team.

-o-O-o-

The next day Hermione walked into her office several minutes prior to nine.

"Hey Hermione,"

"Sweet merlin!" Hermione exclaimed in shock as she was unexpectedly greeted upon entering her own office. "Holly, what are you doing in here?"

"Thought I'd have a chat with you before getting to work," Holly grinned, leaning back into Hermione's wooden chair.

"You're in my chair," Hermione pointed out, succinctly yet amicably.

"Hmm…" Holly shrugged, rising from Hermione's chair. She pulled her chic, leather mini skirt around her legs before perching carefully on the stool that stood next to Hermione's desk. "Good game yesterday, eh,"

"It was," Hermione chuckled, sinking into her chair and tossing her beaded bag onto her desk. "But didn't we already discuss that? When we – you know – watched the game together." She grinned, tucking her ballet flat clad feet underneath her chair. She and Holly had, once again, watched the game from the reserved section of the stadium. This time, however, it was in the visitor's section of the Montrose Magpies home stadium. Nevertheless, they had done their best to make the game seem like a home one for Puddlemore United. Even though the players wouldn't have been able to hear their cheers from the lofty heights of the top floor of the stadium, the two girls had cheered their loudest and sported their matching Puddlemore United tops nonetheless.

"But wasn't it a good game!" Holly replied earnestly clasping her hands in front of her heart.

"Yup, it was actually quite entertaining," Hermione smiled. She knew that she was underselling just how enthralling the game had actually been. It had been a tough match between two of the top teams in the league. Reid – the Puddlemore United seeker – had finally located the Golden Snitch well over five hours after the game had commenced, securing a victory for Puddlemore following a markedly intense battle between two fierce rivals. Hermione and Holly had stood on their tip toes all game, alternating between enthusiastic cheers and stunned silence. By the time the match had ended, Hermione's voice had completely evaporated. That, however, didn't prevent her from wearing a wide grin the rest of the day, unnecessarily overjoyed at having witnessed the vicious and hard fought win.

"How's George doing?" Holly questioned. Several hours into the match, George had taken a pounding blow from a Bludger and had to leave the pitch momentarily to have his dislocated shoulder repaired. Hermione's breathing had been labored at the sight of him leaving the pitch with his useless arm hanging at an entirely unnatural angle from his obviously damaged shoulder. She had stood with her hands clasped, mumbling feverously to herself for the several moments before George had fortunately returned to the field, having been mended by the team healer.

"He's fine," Hermione grinned with admiration. "Didn't even complain about it after the game,"

"What a champ…you tended to him appropriately, I assume," Holly winked.

"None of that, Hol. None of that," Hermione chided good-naturedly.

"Ok, babe, well I'm going to get to work…see you around," Holly chuckled, rising from her perch on the stool.

"See you later, Hol," Hermione replied friendly as her coworker left her office. Resolutely, Hermione pulled the increasingly marked-up legislation from her desk drawer. She was close to finished with editing _An Amendment to the Act for the Proper use of "Electronic" Muggle Artifact, _and was determined that it would be the last day that she worked on the tedious document. Opening the file folder, she flipped to the penultimate section. Preemptively, she dipped the tip of her trusty feather quill into the scarlet ink, knowing that she'd still be using it extensively throughout the day, and began reading the proposed legislation carefully.

After only several minutes of working, Hermione was welcomingly interrupted by a scroll flying into her office on bright red wings. Hermione grinned as she plucked the hovering scroll from the air: bright red wings indicated that the correspondence was from an outside person. The correspondence was personal and Hermione knew exactly whom she hoped had sent it. The instance she unrolled the tightly wound parchment, Hermione smiled brightly; she easily recognized the scrawling printing.

"Mione, I'm baby-sitting Ethan and Sophie tonight. Was hoping you'd be willing to help out – George" George had written. His printing was a tad messier than usual, even for him. Hermione wondered if he was still feeling the effects of his Quidditch injury and didn't have proper control of his right arm. Pushing aside her worry, Hermione bit her bottom lip contently and dug a small pot of black ink from her top drawer.

"Of course" – She scribbled on the back of the parchment – "Fred and Ang wouldn't mind if I came over though?" She thought it best to ensure that the parents of the youngest set of Weasley twins were alright with her assisting George in babysitting their children. After all, since they didn't know about her and George's relationship, they would have no reason to expect that she would also be there. Hermione quickly rerolled the parchment into a cylinder and tapped it several times with her wand. Delicate golden wings grew from its centre. Flapping rapidly, the wings lifted the scroll from her desk and carried it out of the office. The scroll would first go to the owlry, from where it would be delivered promptly to George's. Hermione, once again, hunched her shoulders and focused on the page in front of her. It didn't take long, however, until she was distracted again by a scroll entering her office. Eagerly, Hermione read the contents of her newest letter:

"Do you think they'd trust me with the twins without you there?" George had simply written. Hermione grinned. She could perfectly imagine the nonchalant way that George would deliver the flippant comment. She easily conjured how he'd shrug good-naturedly, smile crookedly, carelessly run his hand through his hair, his brilliant blue eyes focusing intently the entire time as he said such a remark.

"That is an excellent point, George," Hermione wrote, cramping her words into the corner of the already crowded page.

The flirtatious back-and-forth correspondence continued throughout the day. All of George's notes made Hermione smile, both because they were from him and because what he had written was humorous. At precisely five-o-clock Hermione returned her legislation to her desk drawer. She'd finished the editing of the legislation several hours prior and had spent the remainder of the day reworking through some troublesome areas.

"Time to go," Hermione thought gleefully to herself. She figured she'd race home and change out of her structured grey skirt and starched pink blouse and into comfortable wear and head immediately over to George's lend her much needed assistance in taking care of his young niece and nephew.

-o-O-o-

"Hi George," Hermione yelled into George's seemingly empty flat, emerging from his fireplace and into his living room. "You here George?" She questioned again, a bit louder than before.

"Oi, kitchen," George's muffled voice echoed from the other room.

"George…Are you in there?" Hermione asked, wandering into the kitchen and surveying the room. Initially, she saw no sign of George. Glancing towards the ground, however, revealed the lower half of George protruding out of one of his many cupboards. "Erm, George, what are you doing?" Hermione chuckled in amusement at the sight of the tall Weasley twin digging through the ground-level cupboard. The sight of his lanky legs sticking out of small cupboard was comical while the view of his well-formed backside in his dark, fitted jeans was nothing if appealing.

"I have to get my place ready for the twins," George's voice replied from the inside of the lower cupboard.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione grinned good-naturedly as George extracted himself from the cramped nook.

"My place isn't ready for children…I don't want them to get hurt," George stated matter-of-factly, reaching to his top shelf and placing a collection of delicate glassware up high. "And I don't particularly fancy seeing any of my things ruined…I did purchase them quite recently."

"Ah, George…" Hermione gently reminded. "You do recall that Ethan and Sophie are still infants. They can't walk or crawl, let alone get into any trouble in your flat."

"I know," George sighed. "But this is the first time I've ever taken care of them…I'd like to return them to Fred and Ang in one piece."

"It will be fine…we'll be alright. I've taken care of Teddy before…and you have lots of nieces and nephews."

"I hope so," George shrugged. "At least you're here…" He added, wandering across the kitchen to scoop Hermione into a large bear hug. "That way if anything goes wrong I can just blame it on you,"

"That's horrible, George," Hermione replied in mock aghast, rocking onto her tip toes in order to kiss George's chin despite his teasing. "Besides, they'd never believe that."

"Sure they will…Fred has to believe me…it comes with the twin territory."

"No it doesn't…" Hermione's giggles chimed as George leaned over to plant a sloppy, wet kiss on her nose. "You're insufferable," She concluded lightheartedly, not believing her words in the least.

"I really am, aren't I," George grinned broadly, ruffling Hermione's hair and messing up her careful plait. "So are you as nervous as I am? Trust me when I say twins can be quite a handful."

"I'm concerned that you're speaking from experience," Hermione replied. "Or at least all the horror stories you heard from your mum about raising you and Fred."

"I've heard them all," George laughed, squeezing Hermione again before releasing his grasp. "And they're pretty scary. So we might be in for a hectic night."

"I can handle it," Hermione grinned confidently. Having managed Death Eaters, trolls, giants, time travel, Draco Malfoy, and dragons, she was certain that infant twins wouldn't prove much of a challenge.

"Well…I'm glad you're here, then…because I'm more than a little intimidated." George's chuckle was nothing but self-assured as he reached over to tenderly nudge Hermione's shoulder.

"George?"

"Georgie!"

Hermione heard a bustle and shouts from the living room and realized that Fred and Angelina had arrived with the twins. "Well…ready for this?" She grinned at George, hoping her smile didn't demonstrate any of the nervousness that she felt over the prospect of minding the young twins for the evening.

"I suppose so," George replied, placing his hand on Hermione's lower back to lead her into the other room.

_Author's note: Sorry again about the absence. I know this is a rather short chapter, but I'm going to try to add the next one very soon! I suppose it's rather crude of me to ask for comments after such a long break, but leave a comment or review if you'd like to make my day! I love hearing from people and it's a great encouragement to know that people are actually reading [and possibly enjoying] what I'm writing! _


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Still not mine! This is really the second half of last chapter so it is rather short…I just wanted to get some regular updates going…_

"Hey guys," George called to his brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew as he and Hermione entered the cavernous main room of George's gorgeous flat, greeting Fred and Angelina and their twins before their night of babysitting the infants.

"Hey Georgie," Fred laughed in reply. "And Mione," He added, smiling widely at Hermione before turning once again to address his twin. "I must say, dear brother, I'm very relieved to see that you've enlisted some much needed backup in taking care of my children." Despite his jovial tone, Hermione noticed that Fred clasped baby Sophie a little tighter towards his chest than normal and she wondered if the generally easygoing Weasley twin was concerned about leaving his infants in the care of his notoriously fun-loving twin.

"Thanks so much for helping us out," Angelina added gratefully. Even though the attractive, tall woman wore her usual wide, white-teethed smile, the slight bags under her eyes and more pronounced creases surrounding her eyes didn't go undetected by Hermione. Taking care of twins, Hermione assumed, must be tiring for her friend.

"What are you two up to tonight?" Hermione asked kindly, excitedly accepting the sleeping Ethan from Angelina and cradling him fondly.

"Well…it's our first night alone in a while," Angelina's grin grew a bit wider. "We'll probably just grab dinner from the Cauldron or something low key."

"More like pick up take out and head home for the night," Fred laughed, running his free hand through his short red hair in an identical manner to the way George would ruffle up his own, much longer hair. "For a little husband and wife time…if you catch my drift," He added to George in a scarcely hidden, stage whisper as he reluctantly handed his young daughter to his brother.

"Yah, I know what you mean, Freddie," George chuckled good-naturedly in response to Fred's aside. His eyes made no contact with his twin; instead he looked down affectionately at Sophie who was giggling contently and balling up her tiny fists as her already beloved uncle stroked her fine layer of curly hair. Looking at the two older Weasley twins standing side-by-side, Hermione marveled at how similar they were: their posture, their crooked smiles, the gleam in their blue eyes was all matched in the other. Even so, there was no way she would ever get them mixed up in the way she occasionally would while at school. The difference didn't simply lie in George's longer hair and Fred's new fatherhood-related stomach paunch; rather, there was something simply intrinsically George about the young man who she had grown so close to as of late that Hermione would never again accidently mistake him for his identical twin brother.

"Great game, by the way George," Angelina said, seemingly nonplussed at her husband's suggestive comment. "Reid told me all about it. Sounded like a real beast."

"Yup…it was tough," George nodded. Hermione looked carefully at him, but couldn't tell if he was favouring his injured shoulder. "But it was a good one. Showed the mates that we can play with the best."

"You'll take league for sure this year," Angelina laughed confidently, sounding remarkably like one of the older Weasley twins.

"Well…as much as I love staying and talking Quidditch, I think I'd like to get going with my lovely wifey," Fred quickly interjected, placing both his hands on Angelina's shoulders.

"Fine," Angelina grinned. "Well, here are the twins' things," She summoned a couple of bright magenta bags from the fireplace where they had been sitting. "Please don't hesitate to contact us if need be," She added in a voice in which Hermione detected an unmistakable falter.

"Ang, we can trust these two…they're very capable," Fred nodded at Hermione who appreciated his vote of confidence.

"I know," Angelina replied slowly. "Ok…well…get a hold of us…even for something little." She said, leaning down to kiss Sophie's forehead and then turning to Hermione to bid goodbye to her young son as well. "And have fun…"

"We'll be great, Ang. You two get going," George grinned, shooing his brother and sister-in-law from his flat with his free hand. With one last, lingering look at her infant twins, Angelina finally turned and joined Fred in the fireplace before disappearing in a shock of bright, green smoke. "Ready for this?" George laughed at Hermione, gently sinking into his couch so as not to disturb Sophie.

"I sure am," Hermione responded firmly, joining George on the couch with Ethan still in her arms.

-o-O-o-

"Hermione do you have any idea how to get him to stop crying?" George sighed dejectedly, continuing to rhythmically bounce his howling nephew upon his knee.

"No…not at all," Hermione muttered, silently cursing her only-child status and the lack of experience with infants that it provided. "I don't understand how Soph can sleep through this," She added, gesturing at the other young Weasley twin who was sleeping peacefully in her wicker bassinette on the floor beside George's couch. Unlike his twin sister, Ethan had started wailing almost the instant his parents had left George's flat and only let up sporadically throughout the evening. Hermione's ears rang from the seemingly continual cries. Her once-neat plait was non-existent as most of her hair fell over her face having escaped her careful braid much earlier in the evening. Her pale lavender tee-shirt was wrinkled from Ethan's tendency to grab tiny fistfuls of fabric whenever she took a turn holding him. Nevertheless, Hermione continued to wear a resolute smile, determined that she and George would manage to get the upset infant to settle down. "Is one twin always a problem and the other always easy?"

"Yup…I was a perfect angel and Fred was a massive hassle," George laughed, adjusting Ethan in his lap so that the cranky twin was no longer pressed against his chest, but was instead able to look around the large living room.

"Somehow I doubt that," Hermione said, casting a playfully withering stare in George's direction. Realizing she needed to take charge of the situation, she lowered herself to her knees in front of the couch upon which George was sitting with Ethan. "Hey sweetie…look at me," She addressed Ethan in the most soothing voice she could muster, gently taking his miniscule fists in her hands. "You're ok, aren't you mate," Hermione continued her stream of chatter while Ethan continued his cries. However, after several frustrating moments Ethan eventually stopped his cries momentary as he looked intently at Hermione. "Hey you, you're just fine…you like hanging out with your uncle George, don't you." Even though she was aware at how ridiculous her high-pitched, baby-like voice must sound, Hermione continued to babble unintelligibly, hoping that Ethan simply found the sound of her voice calming. "Aren't you a handsome man…you're going to grow up and be a big strong Quidditch player, just like your daddy and your uncle,"

"Mostly like his uncle," George added in a similar silly voice to Hermione's. Despite her frustration, Hermione grinned at George's ability to find a joke even in a discouraging situation.

"Yup, just like you're uncle. We're going to have to get you your very own little Puddlemore United jersey so you can look just your Uncle George," Hermione's gibberish came more easily as she talked affably with the suddenly intrigued infant. "I bet you'd look splendid in it,"

"Oh, he already has his own little jersey and he does look splendid in it," George laughed quietly so as not to disturb the finally settling Ethan. "Sweet Merlin, somehow you've done it, Mione," He added, nodding at Ethan whose cries had turned into soft breaths. "I guess blokes just have a tendency to like you," He said, smiling at Hermione over the Ethan's curly hair.

"Good Godric," Hermione grinned with relief. "I can't believe he's let up. Now, careful not to disturb him." She instructed quietly, slowly rising from her knees to join George on the couch.

"I've never appreciated the peace and quiet so much…I don't know how Fred and Ang manage this all the time," George shook his head admiringly. Nevertheless, he smiled fondly at his nephew. "He's especially lovely when he's not fussing, isn't he," George whispered. Hermione could tell that he was just as relieved as she was that Ethan had finally cried himself out. To say that the silence was welcomed was an understatement.

"He really is," Hermione replied, pulling her feet beneath her, leaning against George, and resting her exhausted head against his shoulder. Despite her tiredness and the frustration that the evening until that point had offered, Hermione couldn't help but contemplate on how perfect of a picture the present scenario exhibited. Even though she was completely knackered from tending to the twins all evening – particularly the difficult Ethan – as she sat with George, while he held the finally docile twin on his lap while Sophie slept contently at their feet, Hermione reflected that there was something rather ideal about the situation. George was such a welcomed presence beside her and the twins' rhythmic breathing, mired only by the occasional sigh, was pleasant. With the tiny Ethan in his arms, George looked stronger and larger than he normally did. There was something about having the young person in his arms that made George look extremely capable: a familiar source of constant reassurance. He also, Hermione smiled impishly at the realization, looked exceptionally handsome while holding the adorable infant. His bright blue shirt contrasted nicely with the hunter green of Ethan's jumper. The affectionately bemused expression that George adopted why smiling fondly at his nephew only contributed to his already noteworthy physical attractiveness. Nestling a little deeper next to George, Hermione could feel his chest rising and falling in a comforting cadence and she closed her eyes contently, awash with affection for George and her recently acquired love for the newborn Weasley twins. Even though that she knew that Fred and Angelina would soon interrupt their well-earned tranquility, Hermione still wished that she could simply continue to sit in stillness with George and the two infants for much, much longer.

Hermione's head grew heavier as she cuddled next to George and she didn't hesitate to allow it to fall more firmly into George's shoulder. Fortunately, George didn't seem to mind in the least. Rather than shake Hermione's head off him or ask her to sit up, he merely let her lean into his shoulder, reaching over occasionally to rub her knee with his free hand. Hermione was so overwhelmed with the loveliness of the moment, that when George's fireplace eventually lit up with the familiar, vibrant green smoke associated with floo travel, she was hit with an unexpected pang of disappointment. Reluctantly, she removed her head from George's shoulder and sat up as Fred and Angelina emerged from the grate and into the living room.

"Hey you two," George acknowledged the arrival of his brother and sister-in-law without moving in such a way as to disturb his nephew. "Back already?"

"It's past nine, Georgie. It's late," Fred responded matter-of-factly, rushing to the couch to eagerly accept his young son from his brother.

"Oi Freddie…that's late now for you, is it?" George joked in reply, vigorously shaking out his left arm, which had evidently fallen asleep from the weight of his nephew. "Do you two want to stay? Have a hot drink or something a little bit harder? Visit for a bit?" He asked as Angelina gently picked up Sophie's wicker bassinette and balanced it upon her hip.

"Sorry, George," Angelina said sweetly. "We really have to get these two to bed. It's well past their bedtimes." Angelina's tone was cheerful and Hermione noticed that the other woman looked significantly less tired than she had when the twins had been dropped off.

"Did you two have a nice evening?" Hermione asked, self-consciously shimmying along the couch in order to increase the distance between her and George.

"Yah, it was lovely," Angelina smiled.

"Simply fantastic," Fred winked at the same time.

"Thanks so much you guys," Angelina added.

"Any time," George offered kindly. "Although, you'll have to find another babysitter sometime so we can all hang out together."

"Will do," Fred grinned assuredly.

"We will see you next weekend…For Ginny and Harry's stag and hen party..." Angelina pointed out.

"Of course," Hermione laughed, recalling the dazzling, animated, silver invitation that she had received from Ginny several days prior. "I assume that will be a lot of fun," She shrugged, knowing already that it would be.

"Well…you know Ginny…it's pretty much guaranteed to be hilarious," Angelina replied with a knowing nod.

"That's true," Hermione giggled. "Well…have a safe trip home," She offered even though she was aware that floo powder travel didn't present a great likelihood of danger. "And I'll see you on the weekend."

"Sounds great, Mione," Angelina said, squeezing Hermione into a hug with her free arm.

"See you two later," George carefully wrapped both his arms around his sister-in-law, mindful not to upset her grasp of Sophie's wicker bassinette. "I'll be seeing you too mate," He turned to Fred and gave him a half-hug, half-handshake goodbye.

"I'm sorry they couldn't stay and visit," Hermione gently remarked once the young Weasley family had disappeared into the fireplace with a flash green smoke, leaving her and George standing completely alone.

"Hmm…it's understandable," George shrugged. Although he spoke nonchalantly, Hermione could tell that he was displeased that Fred and Angelina were unable to stay longer; it was obvious that George missed the once-constant companionship of his twin brother. "Want to stay for a bit?"

"Of course," Hermione grinned, allowing George to lead her into the couch with his hand on the small of her back. She smiled a bit wider as George tugged her down to join him on the plush cushions, appreciating the way he easily wrapped one arm around her back and securely pulled her ever so close to him.

"Thanks for being here tonight, Mione," George said quietly, bending over a bit to plant a soft kiss on Hermione's forehead. "You were invaluable…In all seriousness, it would have been a disaster if it was just me,"

"Any time…I'm always there to help out Fred and Ang, obviously," Hermione chuckled at George's self-deprecating remark as she burrowed her head into the nook between George's arm and his torso where she fit so perfectly.

"I know that…but it's still nice of you…you're really always there for people," George replied. "That's exactly why I love you," He added speculatively.

"You what?" Hermione quickly responded, pulling her head slightly off George. Minimizing her actions as much as possible, she turned her head and peered at him intently, unsure if he had meant what he said or if his comment was merely a slip of the tongue. "Did you just say you love me?" She asked in a barely audible whisper.

"I think I just did," George answered, tenderly rubbing Hermione's shoulder with the same arm that was entwined behind her.

"Oh,"

"And it's quite true," George continued, softly yet assertively. "I realize that it's all too sudden for me to be saying this, but it's true, Mione. I really am entirely in love with you."

"I, ah, wow," Hermione was simply able to muster. George's sentiment had caught her off guard. She realized that their relationship was rapidly progressing, but she hadn't supposed that his feelings had evolved so far in such a short amount of time.

"I realize that this might scare you…and I don't want to make you uncomfortable…but Mione…how could I not be in love with you?"

"I, er, have no way of answering that," Hermione sat upright on her knees as she and George shared slightly self-conscious laughter.

"I don't want to put you on edge. You don't have to say anything," George volunteered shyly, centering his intense blue eyes affectionately on Hermione.

"It's not that George, I love you too," The words left her mouth and Hermione knew full well that she spoke the truth. "It is very sudden, but it really is undeniable…I am quite in love with you," Hermione continued with an anxious giggle. Stating such an intimate fact made her feel instantly very vulnerable.

"That's-that's just so brilliant," George breathed through a wide smile. "Now, you get over here," He commanded gently. Entwining his arms around Hermione's waist, he guided her tightly against him and kissed her deeply. Her mind flooded with perfect thoughts, Hermione eagerly returned the kiss, content that the night couldn't have ended in a more ideal fashion.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Really really appreciate all my regulars and all the newbies…everyone really! See you in the new year with my next update!_


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who is reading. An especially very big thanks to everyone who comments regularly! It's such a huge, massive encouragement to know that people are actually enjoying this story! Every time I check my email and see that I've gotten a story alert or a favourite story notification or a review I get so excited! – SJ [Still not mine, unfortunately] _

"Hurry up Hermione! I bet everyone is there already, waiting for us," Ginny enthusiastically stuck her head into Hermione's bathroom, interrupting her friend as she applied the finishing touches to her recently straightened hair. Ginny had insisted on coming over to Hermione's so that they could get ready together before they left to meet the rest of Ginny and Harry's closest friends at The Golden Snitch, a popular Diagon Alley establishment for young wizards and witches.

"Don't worry Gin, It's early still…and besides, isn't it expected that the bride-to-be is fashionably late for her own hen party?" Hermione replied with a pointed smile as she set down her wand and picked up her glass of white wine to take a tentative sip.

"I suppose you're right," Ginny responded with a drink from her own wine glass. "I suppose I'm just overly excited…first Stag and Hen party after all."

"First and last you mean," Hermione corrected with a good-natured smile.

"Well I suppose so," Ginny smiled cheekily as she shrugged flippantly and took another sip of wine. "And, for the record, we're actually calling it a Stag and Horse party…because, well, you know,"

"Oh that's really sweet," Hermione gushed, taking another sip of her wine as she appreciated the obvious delightfulness of Harry and Ginny naming their party after their respective patronuses. "You look great, by the way, Gin," Hermione added. Her friend was clad in cocktail dress that appeared to be made up of overlapping strips of emerald green fabrics. The dress was form fitted, tightly embracing Ginny's figure from the shoulder-revealing halter cut at the top to the just-above-the-knee hem. Her bright red hair was piled messily, yet precisely, on top of her head and her makeup was more dramatic than it was subtle. A towering pair of beige pumps finished the look. The impressive heels almost brought Ginny to the same height as Hermione and Hermione hoped that her friend would be capable of dancing the entire night in the lofty, and surely uncomfortable, shoes.

"As do you, Mione," Ginny grinned in return, gesturing at Hermione's outfit. Hermione had opted for the same dress that she had worn to George's New Year's party, as she was particularly fond of the black and white, strapless cocktail gown, knowing that the bell-like shape, snug fit, and length was well suited to her figure. Her accessories were minimal – the only jewelry she wore were the diamond earrings that George had given her – choosing to let her natural beauty highlight the outfit as opposed to unnecessary baubles and trinkets.

"Thanks, Gin…Well I think I'm ready to go," Hermione said, completing the final touch of a subtle cherry-red gloss to her lips. She located her sparkly black pumps that had been stashed on the floor of her bathroom and slid them on her feet. Picking up her matching black clutch from the bathroom counter, she turned to Ginny: "You good to go?"

"Sure am," Ginny laughed excitedly, quickly downing the remaining liquid in her wineglass in a single swallow. "Let's get out of here," She added brightly, eagerly taking Hermione's hand in hers and pulling her giggling friend into the main part of the flat and out the front door.

-o-O-o-

Ginny was correct. When Hermione and Ginny finally strolled into The Golden Snitch, it was readily apparent that the establishment was already filled with their dearest friends. Hermione immediately saw that Harry and Ron had secured a selection of tables at the back of the sparsely filled tavern. She sucked in her breath quickly at the sight of George standing next to Fred and Angelina and Ron. In his muted blue shirt and dark trousers and dark tie, George looked as undeniably appealing as ever. Hermione desperately wanted to rush up to him and greet him with a hearty kiss, but knew that doing so would be unnecessarily shocking for his family and their friends, who they had still yet to inform about their still-budding relationship.

"Hi everyone," Ginny shouted as she and Hermione made their way across the shinny dance surface that covered much of the establishment.

"Ginny, you made it…we were getting worried," Harry smiled, his comment obviously in jest. Rising from the table where he had been sitting with Luna and Neville, Harry eagerly hurried towards the girls, picking his fiancée off the ground in an energetic and adorable bear hug. Hermione stared and the floor and fought a huge grin; everything about Harry and Ginny and their relationship made her feel decidedly warmed with bliss. One of Ginny's beige heels fell off from the force Harry's exuberant embrace. The young red head quickly returned the shoe to her foot when Harry finally set her down.

"I'm so glad you're all here," Ginny gushed as Hermione echoed her sentiment.

"It's so great to see everyone." Hermione glanced around, observing who everyone entailed. None who were there were particularly unexpected. Naturally, Harry and Ron were present. Fred and Angelina had evidently found a baby-sitter for the twins – likely Mrs. Weasley, Hermione concluded – as they were standing up, talking to George and Ron. Neville and Luna were sitting together at one of the small circular tables against the wall. Hermione nodded to the couple, although she wasn't certain if either noticed. The pair had clearly coordinated their outfits, as the shade of Neville's tie perfectly matched Luna's canary yellow dress. The party was completed by Lavender Brown who was hovering beside Ron as he talked to his two older brothers and sister-in-law. Hermione wondered if the eldest Weasleys were unable to attend because of family commitments or if Harry and Ginny had simply wanted to keep the affair reserved for their younger, more energetic friends; she presumed the former, knowing that neither Harry nor Ginny would be keen on precluding family.

"I guess not everyone is here yet," Ginny commented idly to Harry well within Hermione's earshot, thereby answering her unspoken question.

"No, hopefully some will be able to come and go throughout the night. Not sure if everyone will be able to make it though," Harry responded.

"Well…the more the merrier, obviously" – Ginny laughed – "But at least the people who are here are here." Hermione, yet again, grinned to herself because of her dear friend; Ginny's carefree attitude was always well received.

"Good to see you Mione…You're looking quite gorgeous,"

Hermione glanced up and saw that George had wandered over to stand next to her and was looking down at her with a sly smile brightening his face.

"Nice seeing you too, George," Hermione bit her bottom lip and grinned in reply.

"And?" George prompted with a cheeky smile.

"And?" Hermione responded coyly.

"Aren't you going to tell me that I look gorgeous too?" George asked with a mock woeful expression.

"Oh, of course," Hermione whispered impishly. "You do look quite gorgeous." She said in an even quieter tone, hoping that Harry and Ginny weren't capable of overhearing her and George's flirtatious repartee. A quick, sideways look at Harry and Ginny revealed that the couple was far too preoccupied in their own space to notice anything else, even things that were happening at a rather close proximity.

"Well…thank you," George grinned, leaning down to plant a stealthy peck on Hermione's cheek. "Care for a drink?"

"That would be nice," Hermione replied mischievously. She'd only had one glass of wine prior to leaving her flat and figured she could manage another. Gingerly, Hermione stepped across the dance floor, mindful of her heels, as George guided her with his hand at the small of her back.

"I know what you like already, I'm sure," George smiled when they reached the bar. Without having to stand on his tip toes or strain his back in any way, he leaned onto the counter and communicated something to the young wizard who was tending the bar. Hermione was unsurprised when the bartender filled two matching glass tumblers with bright pink liquid; she had expected George to order the beverages that they had enjoyed at Ginny and Harry's engagement party. "Cheers, sweet pea," George chuckled, playing with yet another pet name and passing Hermione one of the miniature glasses, which she picked up with a soft giggle.

"Likewise, George," Hermione replied jovially, clinking her glass against his before downing the sweet beverage. She set her glass down firmly once finished and smiled impishly at George: "Care for a dance?" She asked, realizing that she was being rather forward for her normal self, but not particularly minding. Her friends had already started to congregate on the dance floor and she was certain that sharing a dance with George would not be perceived as odd or uncharacteristic by any curious watchers.

"Obviously that would please me greatly," George responded with exaggerated chivalry and a wide grin, holding out his hand for Hermione with a superfluous but charming flourish.

"Lead the way," Hermione smiled, accepting George's hand in hers. George guided her to almost the very centre of the dance floor. Stopping, he quickly placed one hand on her shoulder while entwining the other around her waist to pull her closer to him. Hermione grinned as he held her tightly, enjoying the familiar feel of his touch. The music was upbeat, but Hermione and George ignored that fact, opting instead to move slowly, rather than match their movements to the quickness of the beat. Hermione was certain that those around them were moving energetically and erratically. At one point she was aware of Ginny bumping into her as Harry swung his fiancée into a rapid twirl. Hermione didn't mind; she was simply content to focus entirely on George and their shared simplistic movements.

The dance floor was slowly and steadily filling up, but Hermione wasn't sure if it was becoming crowded with her acquaintances or with strangers. With her head resting peacefully on George's chest, however, Hermione had no desire to move it in order to survey the establishment. Both of George's hands had long since moved to her waist and he held them at the small of her back, using the leverage to keep her snugly next to him. Hermione's hands remained around George's neck. Occasionally, she'd gently finger his longer strands of hair, but for the most part, she remained still. Happily, Hermione's surroundings dissolved as she and George continued dancing.

"Mione! Miione! Drink time!"

Ginny's energetic voice aggressively pierced Hermione's serenity. Hermione reluctantly lifted her head off of George's chest and met the eyes of her best friend with a wide smile despite her frustration at the interruption to the tranquility.

"What's that Gin?"

"Let's hit the bar," Ginny laughed, bobbing her head eagerly, causing the knot of hair piled atop her crown to quiver playfully. "You too George," She added, joyfully grabbing her beloved older brother by the upper arm.

"Alright Gin," George smiled, releasing an arm from Hermione to drape it around his youngest sibling. "Of course, I'd be honoured to accompany the two most gorgeous girls to the bar." With an arm wrapped around both Hermione and Ginny, George led the two off the dance floor and towards the bar.

"Oh George," Hermione tried to sound disapproving, hoping that Ginny wasn't too curious about their dancing, their nearness, or the compliments that George was paying her. The trio reached the bar and Ginny excitedly ordered beverages. Once again, a bright pink liquid was placed in front of Hermione which she drank in unison while George and Ginny downed their respective beverages. Almost the second they finished, a popular, crowd-pleasing tune reverberated over the establishment's sound system.

"Ah, I love this song!" Ginny shrieked. "Let's go Mione," She laughed grabbing for Hermione's hand.

"See you later George," Hermione called as Ginny eagerly pulled her towards the dance floor. The two girls giggled as they both started moving in time with the music as best they were able. While her movements and actions weren't quite as free-flowing and over-pronounced as Ginny's, Hermione easily became swept away in the enjoyment of the moment. Shortly, the two were joined by Angelina and Lavender; a development that only made Ginny's movements more erratic and encouraged her laugher to flow more frequently. Hermione chuckled and danced as her meticulously straightened hair grew frizzier. Her smile also grew wider and her heart raced faster as her dancing became more erratic. She grinned at the carefree Angelina, who was moving effortlessly in her striking, coral cocktail dress and laughed at the sight of the often-snooty Lavender spinning the in-her-element Ginny over and over again in tight pirouettes. Glancing to the side of the dance floor, Hermione noticed George standing beside Fred. Both the Weasley twins were watching the dancing, grinning affectionately at the antics of their respective girls. Locking eye contact, George smiled as he raised his glass to Hermione, nodding fondly in her direction. Without skipping a beat in her dance, Hermione lifted her hand and beckoned to him to join her and her friends. George obviously required little convincing, as he immediately placed down his glass and sauntered onto the dance floor, walking purposefully in her direction. Fred followed closely behind and Hermione noticed that they were being joined from the opposite direction by Harry and Ron. She laughed again as her friends surrounded her, all intent on continuing the merriment.

-o-O-o-

"Oh sweet Merlin…t-that was the best night ever," Ginny gushed with a slurred voice as Hermione and Harry assisted her out of The Golden Snitch and into the dark air of the very early morning moments before the establishment closed for the night.

"I'm glad you had fun, Gin," Hermione smiled sweetly, readjusting her grasp in order to assist her friend in remaining on her feet.

"I did. I did. I did have so, so, so much fun," Ginny mumbled, her body lurching forward as she stumbled on her impractically towering heels.

"Whoa, got you Gin," Harry gently encouraged, wrapping his arm tightly around his inebriated fiancée.

"Maybe a little too much fun?" Hermione suggested kindly. While everyone had been extremely enjoying themselves throughout the night, it was obvious that Ginny had been enjoying herself the most. The feisty red head had continually suggested to Hermione that they return to the bar and had evidently not wisely stopped visiting the bar at the same time Hermione had.

"Definitely too much fun," Ginny admitted sheepishly.

"That's ok Gin…it's not every day that you celebrate your Stag and Hen party…I mean Stag and Horse party." Hermione grinned, fondly squeezing Ginny's shoulder.

"Ok Gin…I got you," Harry said softly, holding Ginny up in a tight embrace.

"You're ok getting home?" Hermione asked, to which Harry responded with a confident nod.

"Oh definitely…you can go see the rest,"

"Alright…thanks for the great night Gin," Hermione replied with an additional squeeze of Ginny's shoulder.

"Bye, I love you Hermione," Ginny gushed, pitching forward to hug Hermione.

"Alight sweetie…I love you too," Hermione smiled affectionately, helping to steady Ginny. "I'll see you tomorrow…er…later today…if you're feeling alright,"

"Yes! Wedding planning!" Ginny replied in an excited singsong. She and Hermione had decided earlier in the day that they'd use their respective day offs to do some much needed preparation for the rapidly approaching wedding.

"Only if you're feeling up for it," Hermione recommended, guiding Ginny back into Harry's arms. "See you later Harry," She added, waving to her friend before joining the rest of the party's attendees, who were congregating at the front doors on the walk in front of The Golden Snitch.

"How is she?" George asked as Hermione approached her mulling friends.

"She's fine…a little drunk, but she had fun," Hermione grinned, hugging her arms to her chest to brace against the chill of the midnight air as she stood next to George.

"Really? Seemed more like right pissed to me," George laughed affectionately at the state of his younger sister. "Looks like we did our part, Freddie," He grinned at his twin.

"Yup, no respectable older brother lets his little sister stay sober at her own party," Fred replied mischievously.

"Fred," Angelina exclaimed, casting a withering yet good-natured stare at her husband.

"I mean, we're not to blame at all…are we, Georgie?" Fred jokingly corrected himself.

"Not in the least," George continued with adopted innocence.

"These two, eh," Angelina nodded towards Hermione.

"What do we do with them?" Hermione smiled in return.

"I have no idea," Angelina replied with mock exasperation as she accepted Fred's outstretched hand with hers.

"Guess you better take me home and give me the appropriate punishment," Fred suggested with an impish wink.

"Fred," Angelina reiterated, shaking her head reproachfully.

"I didn't say anything," Fred laughed.

"Ok then," Angelina said before turning to the rest: "Well we should go."

"Where are the twins?" Hermione asked.

"Oh they're staying over at the Burrow…so I'm pretty excited to actually get a full night's sleep," Angelina laughed.

"Alright, see you around," Hermione replied, returning Angelina's departing hug. Fred and Angelina waved goodbye before apparating into oblivion, leaving Hermione alone with George, Ron, and Lavender.

"We should go too," Ron added with his arm looped around Lavender. "Nice see you though,"

"Yah, it really was," Lavender said sweetly, sounding surprisingly sincere.

"Ok mate," George nodded.

"Take care you two," Hermione added. "Hey, where are Nev and Luna?" She asked, realizing the missing members of their party.

"Oh they left a long time ago…you were preoccupied by the dance floor," Ron chuckled.

"Hmm," Hermione groaned in disappointment. "I haven't seen Luna in forever…I should have hung out more with her," She said quietly, mostly to herself. Her rebuff was interrupted by Ron and Lavender saying goodbye.

"I'm glad we got to spend some time together, Hermione. You're a treat on the dance floor," Lavender whispered hesitantly.

"Yah, it really was. You're pretty impressive yourself," Hermione smiled. Lavender, in her vibrant pink dress with its heavily crinoline, had spent most of the party spinning in circles and joining the other girls in emphatic giggles on the dance floor. Hermione had been pleasantly pleased with how much she enjoyed her former classmate's presence throughout the night. The two girls maintained eye contact and shared an understanding nod. "Take care of yourself, Lav," Hermione said with nonchalant kindness, experimenting with a friendly nickname.

"You too," Lavender replied before leaving with Ron.

"My place?" George suggested the instance Ron and Lavender disappeared.

"Sounds good," Hermione grinned, taking George's hand in hers.

-o-O-o-

Already in the midst of an embrace, Hermione and George entered his flat and immediately found their way to the luxurious couch. No words were exchanged before he found her lips with his. As they kissed, it seemed to Hermione that every time she and George lost themselves to their passion, the result was more and more exhilarating. She barely noticed when George quickly altered their seated positions so that she was lying prone on the couch. Somehow he had managed to rotate their positions without ever breaking their kiss. Even though her head was strained at an awkward angle against the arm of the couch, Hermione didn't mind: the moment was far too exhilarating. Hermione's hands went to his back as their kisses only grew in intensity. She explored his broad back, enjoying the way it felt firm and strong and warm and inviting beneath the soft fabric of his blue shirt.

"Am I crushing you?" George asked as he leveraged himself beside her, not quite lying on the couch, but not exactly on top of her. Hermione only answered with a shake of her head before reconnecting their kiss. She sighed with excitement as George wrapped one if his legs over hers, pulling her in closer to him. She could feel George's chest rising and falling rhythmically beside her and felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt. George's free hand moved to her hip where he gently massaged her through the satiny fabric of her cocktail dress. His touch sent shivers through her body and Hermione didn't want him to refrain from continuing. She buried her hands into his hair as she desperately kissed him. Her delirious movements lacked precision and she kissed his cheeks, chin and nose just as much as she did his mouth. She held nothing back, fully exploring his mouth, often mixing bites and nibbles into her kisses. There was nothing chaste or controlled about the moment. Hermione knew that her rational side was rapidly waning in power compared to her basest urges, but she did nothing to attempt to reign in her passion. She didn't feel the need to in the least, trusting George with her entire being.

"George, ah, do you think we'd be more comfortable in your bedroom?" She questioned tentatively, but with purpose.

"Really?" George breathed excitedly.

Hermione nodded.

"We don't have to," George sweetly volunteered, obviously hoping that Hermione wouldn't agree to his offer.

"I'd like to," Hermione asserted.

"Brilliant," George leaped off the couch and held out both his hands to Hermione. She eagerly accepted.

_Author's Note: Please, leave a comment, review, or encouragement if you get the chance! Always a huge pick me up!_

_I want to keep this overall story T and I hope I didn't cross any lines in that regards with this chapter. The rest of this chapter is going to be written up in a separate one-off story that will be quite smutty [M]. That way, people who are interested in reading an M-rated chapter can check it out and people who aren't can ignore it [Don't worry, it won't add anything important to the plot or anything]. I figured it was the best way to avoid having to rate my entire story M, but to also be able give a try to writing a smutty chapter. It will be rated M for good reason, so please avoid if you don't care for such subject matter or are uncomfortable with it – [PM me if you have any questions/concerns and I'll be more than happy to try and clear it up] - SJ_


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! So appreciated. In case you missed it, I wrote a one-off M-rated story that belongs between this chapter and the previous. It's called _**For the Nights we Chose. **_If you'd like to read it, click on my profile; the story will be in the list of the stories I've written. Thanks! It's not necessary for this overall story, but if you're interested, it's hopefully worth checking out before reading this chapter – SJ_

_I've been asked about the pink drinks Hermione gets at the bar [thanks _maybeitisnt!]_. In my mind, they're a drink me and my friends call a Pretty in Pink which is just vodka, cranberry juice, and pineapple juice. There's a real drink called a Pretty in Pink which is far more complicated but we didn't know that at the time of 'creating' our drink._

Reluctantly, Hermione opened her eyes, sighing regretfully at the sight of the late morning air streaming in through the blinds of George's bedroom. Her unclothed body was still entwined with his. She slowly lifted her head from the crook where George's arm met his torso and strained her neck to see if she could tell if George was awake yet. Evidently he either was already awake or Hermione's shuffling had stirred him.

"What's going on, Mione?" George asked drowsily.

"Hmm…not much," Hermione responded quietly with a content smile. "I have to leave soon though,"

"Erm, no you don't," George suggested, wrapping his arms a bit tighter around her waist and kissing the back of her neck.

"Unfortunately I do…I promised Ginny I'd meet her this morning for wedding preparations." Hermione sighed as George nuzzled her neck.

"You don't honestly think that Ginny is in any state to meet this early do you?" George chuckled. "You saw how incapacitated she was last night,"

"Ginny's got impressive bounce back skills," Hermione pointed out fondly. "If anything, she's probably quite anxious to get going on today."

"Hmm…I doubt that," George grinned. "I think you'd might as well stay here with me. Maybe we could aim for a repeat of last night,"

"Erm, I'd like that," Hermione muttered. "But I'm afraid, I already have plans, love,"

"That's rubbish," George responded good-naturedly, burrowing his face into Hermione's back. "Stay,"

"How do you think Ginny would feel about me standing her up to shag her brother," Hermione asked with a playful laugh. It took all her strength to turn down George's suggestion. "I imagined she'd be quite displeased."

"She'd most likely be incredibly unimpressed," George admitted begrudgingly. "Well…then I suppose I should let you go, shouldn't I," He added, lightly patting Hermione's hip with his palm.

"I will see you later…" Hermione gently reminded him.

"That's definitely in order," George smiled, burrowing into his duvet as Hermione climbed out of his bed. In the morning light, she was all the more self-conscious of her nudity, but did her best to not mind George's blatant stare as she wandered across his room to locate her black knickers where George had tossed them the previous night. Picking her dress up from its crumpled heap, Hermione hastily did up the zipper of the wrinkled garment. She was glad that she was able to travel from George's back to her flat by the fireplaces and thereby avoid any awkward encounters on her trip home; her disheveled appearance was a particularly obvious indicator of the previous night's debauchery.

"I'll see you tonight George," Hermione said once she'd put herself together to the best of her ability. She rested her palms on the bed and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Yup, dinner at the Burrow," George grinned, returning her kiss. "I assume that's what you're referring to,"

"It definitely is," Hermione replied. Sunday night meals at the Burrow were a common tradition with the Weasley's and she was sure that Mrs. Weasley expected all her children, grandchildren, and unofficially adopted children to be present.

"Ok, well have a nice day…and take care of my little sister. See to it that she finds nice things for her wedding," George added, lazily rolling onto his bare chest.

"Will do," Hermione waved as she headed out his bedroom door.

-o-O-o-

"Hey Hermione!" Ginny chimed merrily as Hermione entered the familiar café at which the two girls had previously agreed to meet. The red head wore a wide smile, bright eyes, an energetic demeanor and casual, yet put together, outfit of jeans and an ivory sweater, all of which betrayed no signs of her glaring intoxication the night before.

"Ginny…Glad you made it," Hermione responded in a lively tone, ordering a cappuccino from a passing server as she made through the crowded Sunday morning café to join Ginny at the table her friend had claimed. Hermione straightened her form fitted maroon top over her dark jeans and placed her beaded bag over one of the wire-backed chairs before sitting down across the small table from the smiling Ginny. "So what's the game plan for today?" She asked.

"I'm not sure really," Ginny admitted sheepishly. "I guess just look through some of these," She continued, gesturing at an impressive stack of bridal magazines sitting in front of her. "And then checking out a couple of nearby shops for bridesmaids' dresses, I suppose…maybe start looking at wedding dresses if we get the chance." Her flippant attitude indicated that she hadn't given much consideration to the makeup of the day and hadn't been too worried about the state of affairs of her approaching wedding.

"Alright," Hermione smiled gratefully as a server placed a wide ceramic mug filled with frothy cappuccino on the table. Her sleep had been truncated from her night with George and she knew that the caffeine would be necessary if she was to remain standing throughout the full day ahead of her.

"Oh there's Lav," Ginny commented, waving at the honey-blonde girl clad in a casual floral dress who had just entered the shop. "I hope you don't mind that I invited her…neither Ang nor Luna could make it unfortunately," She added, referring to her two other bridesmaids.

"Oh yah, of course that's alright, great really," Hermione replied, casting her own small wave in Lavender's direction. "More input is better…and it would be nice to spend the day with Lavender," She wasn't entirely sure of the veracity of the words she'd spoken. While she was warming to Lavender's presence, Hermione worried that the other girl's fussier tastes could be a hindrance to her and Ginny's plans. Despite her qualms, she smiled as Lavender joined their table: "Good to see you."

"Hey girls," Lavender gushed as she set a pad of parchment on the table. "I've already set up an itinerary…of all the places we have to hit and all the things we have to get done." She continued in a rushed voice before pleasantries had even been exchanged. Leafing through the parchment, she looked up again. "Ginny do you have a dress yet?" Lavender asked in a clipped, business-like tone.

"Erm, no," Ginny shrugged sheepishly. "I figured I could get one closer to the date."

"What! No you can't. That's the most important part." Lavender looked aghast.

"I'm fine with something simple," Ginny responded, a nervous shimmer clouding her eyes as she idly sipped her hot chocolate. "It doesn't have to be anything much…just a white dress."

"Just a white dress?" Lavender exclaimed lengthening each word for affect. "Ginny, no pressure or anything…but this is the wedding of the season. There's nothing more exciting happening this summer than you and Harry getting married," She explained as if describing a complicated idea to a child. "You cannot simply wear any old, white dress," She scoffed. "You simply must look fabulous…You're the biggest deal going right now,"

"Lav, are you sure about that?" Hermione asked incredulously, hoping to alleviate Ginny's obviously growing trepidation.

"Oh yes…yes indeed. The Boy Who Lived is getting married…it's a massive, societal event," Lavender stated matter-of-factly. "And don't think this doesn't matter for us, Hermione. We have to look amazing too…they'll likely want pictures of the whole wedding party in the Daily Prophet, in Witches Weekly, Monthly Merlin, Hello Magic, The Broomstick, Timeturner Magazine, Magic of Fact, The Tattler," Lavender listed publications off on her fingers.

"The Tattler?" Hermione questioned as she gently placed her cappuccino mug back on the table. "Isn't that a Muggle magazine? I don't think they'd care."

"Well…maybe I got a little ahead of myself…but you get the picture. This is a very big deal…The press has been eager ever since you announced your engagement," Lavender responded with a knowing flourish of her hand.

"Perhaps we should get going on our planning," Ginny blanched as she spoke in a decidedly quieter voice than normal for the fiery red head.

"We most definitely should," Lavender asserted as she spread her ink covered pages out on the table.

-o-O-o-

An hour later an exhausted Hermione found herself in the first boutique of their marathon shopping day. Her lack of sleep the previous night was wearing on her and the bright white lights and loud music of the shop made her head throb. Nevertheless, she did her best to maintain a cheerful attitude for the sake of the clearly-stressed-out Ginny. The three girls had decided to tackle dresses for the bridesmaids first; Hermione had thought it best to worry about Ginny's wedding gown when she was in a more easygoing mood.

Hermione yawned as she flipped through the rows of brightly coloured cocktail dresses and gowns. She felt suddenly guilty for her tiredness, knowing that she was letting down her friend because of her late night with Ginny's older brother. Glancing at Ginny, who was anxiously riffling through dresses on the other side of the rack, Hermione suddenly felt a pang of regret, not for what she did, but for pursuing George, starting something with him, and taking it to its natural escalation without ensuring that the relationship didn't bother Ginny. Despite the fact that she and George hadn't yet decided how and when they'd tell his family about their mutual involvement, Hermione knew that it was important to finally say something to her dear friend.

"Erm, Ginny, I have to tell you something," Hermione mentioned cautiously, glancing up from the sapphire dress that she had pulled off the hanger and had been studying intently. "I have something to tell you," She reiterated when Ginny had looked up and met her eyes. "I hope you're not mad…but it's kind of a big deal,"

"Oh, is this about you shagging George?" Ginny asked absent-mindedly, continuing to push dresses across the rack without even looking at them.

"W-what?" Hermione dropped the dress that she had been holding. "How do you know? When did you know? How come you haven't said anything to me?" She hastily asked, quickly bending over to scoop the dress off the tiled floor, unable to mask her surprise.

"I've known for a while," Ginny shrugged. "Maybe New Years…I guess it's been pretty obvious for some time…I didn't say anything because I figured you wanted to tell me on your own time."

"I-I can't believe you knew," Hermione mulled over the words. "I had no idea you were aware. I thought we were doing quite a good job of remaining discrete," She speculated.

"Seriously Mione?" Ginny laughed kindheartedly, her wedding stress appearing to fade momentarily. "You were the furthest thing from not obvious. You two were flirting the entire time at Victoire's birthday and you were all over each other last night. I'd have to be daft not to notice anything…I was certain you'd start ripping each other's clothes off right there,"

"Ginny, it's your brother!" Hermione exclaimed, not really shocked by Ginny's way of speaking. The young red-head was quite frequently unnecessarily forward in regards to her brothers' dating lives. Hermione had overheard several conversations between Ginny and Angelina that she was sure would most many younger sisters recoil with a fervent blush. Besides, Ginny's comment was shockingly apt.

"I know," Ginny chuckled. "Doesn't mean I can't tell when he fancies a girl. And trust me I always know when you fancy a bloke."

"You do?"

"Always."

"Hmm…" Hermione paused. That Ginny already knew about her and George was the last thing she expected. While she had considered that Ginny might be excited or disappointed over her dating her older brother, Hermione hadn't anticipated that Ginny's reaction would be closer to ambivalence. "Are you mad, Gin? That I'm with George?"

"No, of course not," Ginny chuckled. "Why'd I'd be mad? I love you and I love George, so obviously I'd love you two together."

"Oh," Hermione muttered, impressed with Ginny's surprisingly simple way of looking at her and George's relationship. "Ok, good," She sighed, relieved that one of the Weasleys she was most concerned about telling was supportive of her relationship with George. "You'd tell me if you were unhappy?"

"Really Hermione," Ginny laughed. "You don't think I'd tell you? Obviously you'd be the first to know if I was displeased with you dating one of my brothers."

"Of course," Hermione echoed Ginny's laughter. The forward Ginny certainly wouldn't take a passive aggressive approach if she disapproved of Hermione's actions, particularly actions that involved her beloved older brother. "Well…I'm glad you're ok with it…." Hermione faltered; she had expected that the conversation would last much longer and wasn't entirely sure what to do with the silence.

"Oh yah…if anything, I think it's rather brilliant. When you and Ron broke up, I honestly gave up hope that you'd be my sister-in-law one day…now I can look forward to when you marry George and we're part of the same family…officially that is,"

"Great," Hermione murmured, not surprised that Ginny would get wildly ahead of herself over the state of George and Hermione's relationship. She had been certain that once the Weasley clan learned of her and George's involvement they would be quite keen to plan a wedding and preparing for future children. "Not quite there yet Gin,"

"What do you think of this one?" Lavender interrupted Hermione and Ginny's conversation when she approached them holding up a vibrant blue dress. "I think it's lovely,"

"Erm yah," Hermione commented, barely looking at the dress, her thoughts still on her conversation with Ginny.

"Am I disrupting something," Lavender asked quite intuitively, glancing between the other two repeatedly.

"Nope," Ginny smiled in a way that made Hermione hope that her friend was feeling more relaxed about wedding plans than she had been when they three young women had left the café. "Mione was just telling me how she's shagging Georgie,"

"Is that so," Lavender exclaimed excitedly. "You and George," The honey blonde looked delighted over having learnt the brand new item of gossip. "Tell me everything."

"Er, I don't know if that's necessary," Hermione faltered, suddenly self-conscious to be at the very centre of attention.

"I'd like all the details," Lavender grinned gleefully.

"No, no you don't," Hermione recommended, shaking her head.

"They hooked up at New Years," Ginny eagerly volunteered.

"No we didn't," Hermione pointed out. "It was much later than that,"

"Whatever," Ginny shrugged flippantly. "They wanted to get off together at New Years, but they put it off for some reason." Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her friend's shockingly on-point description of her and George's relationship.

"You and George," Lavender whistled, sounding impressed. "That's remarkable…hey Ginny…Is Mione the first to shag two Weasley boys?" She asked with a curious giggle.

"Hmm…you know, I'm fairly certain that she is…although, mind you, I of course don't know everything about my brothers' sex lives," Ginny answered without any hint of self-consciousness.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione groaned. "Is that honestly a distinction I want?" She questioned rhetorically.

"Well, you've always been a favourite of the Weasley family," Ginny pointed out with an amused giggle.

"I think it's fantastic," Lavender breathed airily. "In fact, I had a substantial crush on George in fifth year…thought he was so fit…guess we have a remarkable overlap in our taste of men,"

"I guess so," Hermione grinned through her awkwardness, astounded that she and Lavender shared such a thing in common. "Shall we change this subject though," She continued with a pointed look towards Ginny who obviously had no desire or intentions of dropping the topic. "Why don't we try on that dress," Hermione suggested, motioning towards the gown that Lavender had selected.

"Fine…We can discuss this later," Ginny laughed. Hermione was glad that the introduction of the discussion of her and George had brightened Ginny's spirits so definitively. Then again, Ginny's love of gossip should never be underestimated.

"This should be about your size, Mione," Lavender commented, glancing between the dress's tag and Hermione. "Why don't you give it a try first?"

"Sounds great," Hermione nodded, accepting the dress from Lavender and making a bee-line to the dressing room where the rest of the dresses they had picked out during their time in the boutique were waiting. Once in the change room, Hermione hastily yanked off her maroon top and jeans and pulled the blue dress over her head. She did the zipper of the dress up. The bodice was too large on her and wanted to slip down, but Hermione secured the back with pins in order to give an idea of how a proper-sized dress would appear on her. Smoothing out the skirt, she exited the change room to demonstrate the gown to Ginny and Lavender who were eagerly waiting on the other side.

"Oh wow, it's perfect,"

"It's stunning,"

"Yah?" Hermione questioned, studying her reflection in the full length mirror. The makeshift fitted strapless bodice was snug, dipping with a subtle sweetheart neckline between her breasts and boasting slight ruching along the torso. An ivory ribbon tied around the waist in a substantial bow at the back. The skirt was simple yet flattering. It skimmed out over Hermione's hips and drifted down her legs were it ended with a rolled hem at her knees. There was nothing about the dress that was particularly fussy or complicated. Nevertheless, the light fabric and carefree style suited Hermione and she liked the dress the moment she saw her reflection in the mirror. The tie at the waist made her look remarkably slender through the middle and the way the skirt floated out around her was both playful and flirtatious. She sashayed her hips in order to get a better sense of the effortless movement of the dress, smiling at the way it flow around her legs.

"Well, I think that is the one," Ginny commented with a grin.

"Ah, what about all these other ones?" Hermione asked gesturing at the dozens of other dresses the three girls had selected to try on.

"Why bother? I like this one," Ginny stated assertively. "It looks amazing on you and I'm sure it will look great on the others as well…why don't you try in on too Lav, just to make sure," Ginny diplomatically considered even though Hermione could tell that her friend had already decided on the dress.

"Alight," Lavender grinned. Hermione returned to the dressing room and quickly changed out of the dress and back into her casual clothes.

"You know who is really going to like you in that dress, Mione?" Ginny questioned the moment that Hermione and Lavender exchanged locations.

"Dare I ask?" Hermione laughed in reply.

"George," Ginny declared with a mischievous grin.

"Oh Ginny,"

"He'll think you're incredibly gorgeous, I'm sure," Ginny bounced on spot as she jovially chided her friend.

"Is this what I have to look forward to? Are you ever going to lay up on teasing me over George?" Hermione inquired lightheartedly.

"Of course not…what's the point of you dating my older brother if I can't tease you about it?"

"I suppose I can't argue with that logic," Hermione shrugged as Lavender joined them in the larger, main dressing area.

"Lav, that's fantastic,"

"It really is," Hermione agreed with Ginny's assessment. The style suited Lavender's curvier figure and the colour complemented her honey blonde hair and rosy complexion.

"Are you sure?" Lavender questioned. "It's very important we look nice…Witches Weekly remember. We have to pick something that looks great in person and photographs well and suits all of us," In the way Lavender rambled, Hermione sensed that she was worried about the prospect of participating in an evidently high-profile wedding. She felt a pang of concern for the other girl that she hadn't experienced before. The interested scrutiny that would be afforded to Ginny and Harry's wedding didn't particularly bother Hermione – she was simply excited for her two best friends – but it obviously weighed heavier upon Lavender.

"Lav, it really is stunning on you," Hermione spoke sincerely. "You have nothing to worry about…you look fabulous,"

"You really do, Lav," Ginny agreed with a kind smile. "This is the dress," She exclaimed, clearly relieved to be able to check an important item off her lengthy to-do list. "The colour should suit Ang and we can get it hemmed if need be for Luna," She added contemplatively. "Lav, change out of it…I'll go place an order for four dresses and then we can hit the next store." Her step substantially lighter than when they had entered the boutique, Ginny turned on her heel and raced towards the shop's front desk. Hermione smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. She too felt better than before. It was a reassurance to discover that Ginny was supportive of her and George. Feeling more awake and lively than she had earlier, Hermione quickly gathered her things and hurried behind Ginny, eager continue preparing for Harry and Ginny's wedding.

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a comment if you can. I love hearing from readers! Can you believe we're nearing the end of this story? I only have several more chapters planned. Already it's ended up so much longer than I initially thought. But I'm still going to be so sad when I'm finished with it – SJ_


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and to everyone who is following and commenting! – Not Mine _

In the late afternoon, Hermione, Ginny, and Lavender neared the Burrow. Their day of shopping had been remarkably successful. They had even gotten the opportunity to visit several wedding dress shops and had managed to narrow down Ginny's choices to several favoured options. Hermione was relieved to see that Ginny's stress had substantially waned, even with Lavender's estimation that the greater wizard community was looking forward to the wedding with a bated anticipation.

"You excited to see everyone?" Ginny asked with a giggle as the girls made their way up the walk. "George should be there," She cast a pointed, wide eye glance at Hermione as her grin grew substantially larger.

"Now, Gin…you do recall what we spoke of at lunch," Hermione returned her friends smile despite her chiding tone. After leaving their second wedding dress store, the young witches had found a small curry off Diagon Alley for lunch. Ginny had spent much of their meal dolling out some good-natured ribbing to Hermione over her new relationship. Although it was more than obvious that the younger girl enjoyed teasing her friend, when Hermione had asked her to refrain from mentioning anything at the Burrow, Ginny had agreed willing. Hermione had no fears that Ginny would betray her secret. When they reached the Borrows' front door, Ginny let them in, shouting into the house as she entered the foyer.

"Mum, Dad, everyone…we're here," Ginny yelled as Lavender and Hermione trailed behind her into the house. "Come'on we can go find everyone….we're probably the last ones here…since we're late and all," Ginny explained as she kicked off her once white trainers and scurried up the stairs. The girls had spent more time than they had allotted in the final wedding dress store and, consequently, made it to the Burrow a mere five minutes before the time which Molly had planned for dinner. Hermione slid off her own blue, canvas flats and hurried after Ginny, up the stairs and into the living room.

"Oi, you made it," Fred looked up from the couch as Hermione and her friends entered the living room. The rest of the room's occupants – Harry, Ron, George, and Angelina – all echoed his greeting. The only ones who said nothing were the infant Weasley twins, simply because they were incapable of doing so. The sly smile George flashed her as she walked in the room didn't go unobserved by Hermione, and – based on the way Ginny not-so-subtly nudged her with her elbow – she guessed that it also didn't go undetected by his sister.

"Hey George," Ginny laughed, striding across the room to sink down in the larger couch beside her older brother. "I feel as if I haven't seen you in forever,"

"Is that so, my very favourite Quidditch opponent?" George replicated Ginny's easygoing, teasing tone. "Because I'm fairly certain that we saw each other only last night…unless of course you were far too out of sorts to recall. Perhaps you saw me and drunkenly confused me for our dear brother,"

"Oh George," Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Because I've been told that Fred and I look remarkably alike…so it's very understandable that you'd get us mistaken," George laughed, playfully looping an arm around his little sister. "Although I'd hate to think that you of all people can't tell us apart,"

"Oh George…" Ginny reiterated with an exaggerated exasperated sigh, leaning into her brother to indicate that she wasn't in fact frustrated by his jokes. "Of course I've seen you," Ginny huffed good-naturedly. "It's just that I've feel it's been forever since we've really talked…you know, a good brother-sister heart to heart…I just really would love to discuss what's going on with you…hear all about what's new in your life…any interesting details…any new people…any important events," She laughed as Hermione tentatively wandered over to sit beside Ginny. Hermione wondered if Ginny was perhaps being a bit over obvious and was certain that her others were privy to the fact that something odd was occurring. A quick glance at Lavender, who had claimed a spot on the other couch, and Hermione noted that the other girl was conspicuously trying to hide a giggle. Fortunately, any confusion on the part of the others was interrupted when Mr. Weasley stuck his head in through the doorway to notify everyone that dinner was being set upon the table.

Hermione pushed herself up from the couch, intent on following the rest of the family into the dining room. She was nearing the doorway when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning on her heel, she saw George grinning at her as he held on to her shoulder, beckoning her to remain in the living room with him. Hermione smiled, assuming that he wanted to reduplicate the last time they found themselves alone in the Weasley's living room. Hermione stood quietly while the rest of her friends bustled by her, all eager for Mrs. Weasley's surely delicious meal.

"What is it, George?" Hermione asked once they were alone.

"Hmm…I have a feeling Ginny is on to us in some way. You wouldn't happen to have idea why that might be so?" George chuckled without a trace of accusation in his voice.

"Perhaps," Hermione murmured as a flush grew on her cheeks. "I might have mentioned something today while we were shopping,"

"Ahh, I see," George smiled. "That would explain a lot about my darling little sister's actions just then."

"You're not frustrated are you," Hermione bit her bottom lip, doing her best to both look and sound apologetic.

"Oh of course not…it's about time they learned, isn't it,"

"Is it?" Hermione sighed. "I suppose so," She immediately answered her own question.

"Yah…I think we've kept things secret long enough," George answered definitively.

"I know, you're right," Hermione smiled. While she was pleased that Ginny had accepted her and George's relationship so graciously, she still worried that others – Ron and Mrs. Weasley in particular – wouldn't be quite as tolerant. Nevertheless, she realized that they had been putting it off long enough and that it was important that the Weasleys finally learned the truth of her and George's involvement.

"Well, ready?" George asked, holding out his hand for Hermione.

"Yup," Hermione gladly accepted George's hand in hers. Gripping onto his hand perhaps a bit tighter than necessary, Hermione followed George into the dining room. When they entered, the family was all seated around the long table, eagerly filling their plates with the spread of roast beef and Yorkshire puddings and potatoes and vegetables Molly had prepared.

"Hey everyone," George cleared his throat and spoke loudly and clearly, trying to get everyone's attention. It only took a couple moments for all present to cease dishing their plates to stop and look at the pair. All the pairs of expectant eyes upon her caused Hermione's heart to beat faster and her mouth feel rather dry.

"Ah…Well…" She faltered before looking to George for support.

"Mione and I have something to tell you," George announced, finishing Hermione's thought.

"You two are together,"

"You've been dating,"

"You're boyfriend and girlfriend."

"We all know you're shagging,"

"Old news Georgie,"

"Did you guys really think we didn't know?" Ron added as the rest of his family all clarified that they were aware of the couple's situation. "You've been doing a rubbish job of it if you have been trying to hide it,"

"What?" Hermione questioned in surprise. "Er, well, when did you all find out?" She asked, curious as to how the Weasleys were so aware of her and George's relationship. She thought they'd been quite careful to shroud their behavior in secrecy.

"New Years," Harry offered.

"The engagement party," Fred and Angelina said at the same time.

"Ginny's Quidditch game," Ron nodded.

"Since Victoire's birthday party, dear," Mrs, Weasley spoke kindly.

"Oh, we didn't realize that," George grinned sheepishly.

"Mate, it's been really obvious," Fred chuckled. "And not just for me,"

"Definitely," Harry continued. "We've all been privy for quite awhile. We just assumed you both knew that,"

"Er, so we're dating," Hermione stammered, even though she now realized the statement was redundant. "As you all seem very aware of. I, ah, hope that it's alright with everyone," She added, glancing cautiously towards Ron: the one whose reaction she was most nervous about.

"It's great," Ron smiled with a shrug.

"Brilliant,"

"I think it's fantastic,"

"All the best,"

"She's a great girl," Mr. Weasley nodded proudly at his son.

"So you're all fine? No one has a problem?" Hermione asked hesitantly, looking around the room to study the faces of all present.

"Oh sweetie," Mrs. Weasley gushed. "I'm so sorry, you were nervous about this. Of course we're overjoyed that you and George are dating. You're allowed to date any of my sons whenever you'd like," She said excitedly, bustling around the table to scoop Hermione into a reassuring hug.

"Erm, all your sons are married," Hermione replied, knowing that the statement wasn't entirely true.

"Well…if you get tired of George, there's always Charlie," Mrs. Weasley offered.

"Oi, I don't know about that," George teased his mum, patting her kindly on the shoulder as she released Hermione from her tight embrace.

"I'm just so happy that you're going to be a part of our family again," Mrs. Weasley said. Her emotion was palpable. Hermione was sure she noticed tears forming in the corners of the older woman's eyes. "I was so worried you were going to leave us for a different family." She continued in a rushed voice, clearly unaware of the concerned look George and Hermione shared behind her head.

"Er, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hermione cautioned.

"Yah, let Mione and I just enjoy ourselves for the time being." George grinned. "Before you start with the wedding plans."

"Oh, I have the perfect veil," Mrs. Weasley gasped. "It belonged to my great-grandmum."

"Mum, you haven't even offered me that veil yet!" Ginny exclaimed in mock-disbelief. "And I'm getting married in only a couple of months."

"Oh well dear, you already knew that I wanted you to wear that," Mrs. Weasley replied comfortingly to her daughter.

"No, I didn't," Ginny smiled jokingly. Her brown eyes flashed mischievously and Hermione could tell that the feisty red-head was intentionally playing with her mum.

"Erm, so this meal looks incredible Molly…I can't wait," A blushing Hermione offered, walking towards her normal spot at the table, eager to change the direction of the conversation away from her and George.

"Oh, Hermione, you can't sit there anymore," Mrs. Weasley hurriedly replied. "You simply must sit beside George now."

"Oh," Hermione faltered, knowing that there wasn't a spare spot next to George.

"Everyone can shuffle down," Fred laughed, clearly amused by the events. Hermione's flush grew more pronounced as everyone moved a seat over to create an open space beside George's usual place setting for Hermione. She still felt in a bit of a daze from what had just happened. She hadn't expected everyone to already know about her and George's involvement, let alone to all be in agreement over how obvious their relationship had been. Cleary, she had George hadn't been as competent at keeping things secret as they had believed.

"Er thanks," Hermione offered once her new spot was created as she self-consciously slit into the chair. Her blush was beginning to subside as it was clear that the Weasleys and Harry were more intent on enjoying the meal than on pestering her and George. She cast a subtle, sideways glance at Ron, hoping to get a better read on his take of the matter. Fortunately, Ron simply wore his typical, goofy grin as he spoke attentively with Lavender about something that Hermione could not hear.

"So, how do you like this side of the table?" George broke Hermione's contemplation with a nudge of his elbow.

"Ah, well, I suppose it's quite a bit like the other side," Hermione chuckled. Based on the smile adorning George's face, she sensed that he wasn't feeling any lingering awkwardness about their big reveal.

"So, Mione…George tells me you're working on a speech to give before the Ministry," Angelina interjected. The older witch's tone demonstrated nothing but interest in the subject. There was nothing that indicated that she was treating Hermione any differently than she had been before. Then again, Hermione figured, there was no reason for the family's interaction with her to be any different; after all, her and George's relationship was apparently old news to everyone.

"Um, yup," Hermione nodded, quickly swallowing her bite of Yorkshire pudding. "I'm preparing a speech on the rights of House Elves…it's up for debate before the Ministry at the end of the month."

"That's brilliant," Angelina smiled. "I could never speak in front of everyone…I'd be so nervous,"

"Ah, well, I'm a bit nervous," Hermione admitted. "I've never really given an important speech to a large group of people before,"

"You'll have no problem though," Angelina responded confidently. "You're going to do great,"

"Thanks Ang," Hermione smiled. As Angelina continued to ask her questions about the upcoming debate, Hermione felt perfectly content. She should have known that there was nothing to worry about in disclosing her relationship with George to the family and began to feel a little silly about her previous qualms. George's leg rubbed reassuringly against hers, the meal was delicious, and the company was as enjoyable as ever: Hermione had no complaints.

-o-O-o-

"Ok, we should be leaving," Angelina commented as evening faded into night, motioning to Fred and the twins. After dinner, the younger Weasleys had congregated in the living room, but it didn't take long for the infant Weasley twins to grow cranky: a sure sign that they needed to be taken home and put to bed.

"Er yah...I have practice tomorrow morning and I'm exhausted from all that shopping," Ginny added, joining Fred and Angelina on her feet in the living room.

"I'll head out with you," Harry offered, hoisting himself off of the couch and linking his arm around Ginny.

"We'll be leaving too," Lavender said, including her and Ron on the list of people departing.

"Well, Mione…Guess we should head out as well," George glanced at Hermione with a sly smile.

"Alright," Hermione replied, hoping her voice didn't betray her excitement at the prospect of a repeat of the previous night.

"Oh, wait. Leaving together are we?" Fred turned with a laugh as he was heading out of the living room.

"Er," Hermione sputtered.

"It would appear to be that way, wouldn't it?" George answered with a wide grin.

"Well then…have a nice time you two," Fred said with an obvious wink. As everyone left the Burrow, the good-natured chiding continued, all of it at the expense of George and Hermione. However, with her hand tucked firmly into George's, Hermione didn't mind in the least.

_Author's Note: Thanks again for the readership. Please leave a comment and make my day! Also good news [hopefully you consider it good news]: I've come up with a plot line for my next Hermione/George story, so that means there will be another one after this one. I think it's going to be called _**Hermione Granger and the Question of When. **_I'm pretty excited about it even though I won't start working on it until this one is completed. Message me if you have any suggestions/things you'd like to see included. I've love to be able to consider any reader ideas! – SJ_


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! – Yet again, not mine. Bit of a short chapter, but hope you enjoy it regardless! _

The following month passed in a seeming flash. Hermione felt that between work, spending time with George, occasional meals at the Burrow, going to both George and Ginny's Quidditch matches, assisting Ginny with wedding plans, and preparing for her debate, she hadn't time for much else. Unfortunately, in all of the bustle it seemed as if the last item on Hermione's list – getting her House Elf speech written – too often went forgotten. Consequently, up to the night before the debate itself, Hermione was still working frantically on preparing the proper words that would hopefully stir the hearts and minds of the Ministers to whom she was delivering her lecture.

In her living room, in her purple plaid flannel pants, Hermione sat with her trusty feather quill hovered over some parchment, desperately trying to locate the ideal words from the recesses of her vocabulary. The task proved difficult. Hermione knew that her speech – which she had actually finished sometime prior – was adequate, but it bothered her that it wasn't perfect. Her neck was beginning to cramp from being hunched over the page and her fingertips were stained with black ink, but she kept working despite the discomfort. She knew that no one else was going to be there to stand up for the House Elves and it was important that she contributed her best to the fight. Sometime just before midnight, Hermione looked up at the sound of a peck on her window.

"_Who'd be writing me at this time?_" She speculated, struggling to stand up from the couch, impeded by the pins and needles syndrome affecting her left leg. Hermione stumbled to the window as she favoured her numb leg. She opened the window and Gilbert – her pet owl – fell into her flat with a piece of parchment tied to his leg. Hermione smiled instinctively at the familiar printing adorning the parchment.

"Mione – what time should I meet you at the Ministry?" George had written in his sprawled style.

"The debate's at 2:00," Hermione jotted on the page and sent Gilbert on his way to deliver the note to George. She grinned with affection for George as she returned – much more ably – to her spot on her couch; she hadn't asked George to be present for the debate but as awfully pleased that he intended on coming.

Hermione glanced over the ink-scribbled parchment for another twenty minutes before deciding that she was too tired to make any more progress; the current state of her speech would have to prove sufficient. With wariness pervading her entire body, Hermione crept to her bedroom and slunk into bed. She looked forward to sleep, even though she knew her slumber would be pestered with doubts and concerns about the following afternoon.

-o-O-o-

"Mione! Mione!" Hermione had only been waiting outside the Ministry's central auditorium for only five minutes, preparing for the moment that she would be summoned, when she heard her name echo through the lobby-type area that surrounded the Minister's auditorium. Glancing up from her parchment that she'd been studying, she saw George approaching her.

"George, you made it," Hermione breathed excitedly as he joined her on the wooden bench that sat beside the large rosewood doors that led to the auditorium-like chamber where the Ministry of Magic Ministers held their debates.

"How could I miss this?" George questioned lightly with a crooked smile that somehow managed to simultaneously make Hermione's heart beat faster and calm her nerves for her upcoming speech. "How are you doing, sweetie?" He asked, patting her knee over her charcoal grey, pencil skirt.

"Bloody nervous," Hermione replied, intentionally following her comment with some needed laughter.

"Mione! There's no reason for that," George said, sounding genuinely shocked at her retort. "You're brilliant and you're going to do brilliantly." He added, entwining his arm around Hermione's shoulder and pulling her into his chest.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, grateful to find herself in his arms. She didn't even mind when he started stroking her straightened hair, potentially messing up her carefully styled locks. She knew she was prepared, but actually arriving at the moment was nerve-racking. Also, there was something positively intimidating about the formality of being in the Ministry. The large, lobby-like area that surrounded the inner sanctuary of the Ministry where the Ministers deliberated was imposing in its grandeur. From the lush burgundy velvet walls, to the carefully carved wooden molding, and the impressive detailing on the marble tiled floor, the entire scenario was one that made her feel remarkably small and inconsequential. As she waited, Hermione took her eyes from her parchment and simply sat with George in stillness, knowing that focusing on becoming at peace was more valuable than a few last reads of the words she'd long since committed to memory.

"Oh, I have something for you," George spoke quietly, breaking Hermione's momentary tranquility.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, glancing up at him.

"Here," George replied, shifting his weight in order to riffle through the side pocket of his dark slacks. "Here we are," He added, handing Hermione a small item.

"George? Where did you get this?" Hermione exclaimed in shock at the object that he had given her.

"I happened to still have it," George shrugged. "You know how you end up holding on to things,"

"That's remarkable," Hermione marveled, staring nostalgically at what she held. "I can't believe you still have this, George," She spoke contemplatively, spinning one of her old SPEW pins around in her hand.

"I, ah, found it in my old room at the Burrow awhile back," George volunteered. "I thought you might like it….might remind you where your passion came from,"

"This is brilliant, George…thanks so much," Hermione grinned, straining her neck in order to kiss his chin. "I can't believe you even took one of these in the first place…let alone kept it for all these years."

"Er, yah, full disclosure, Fred and I only took from some you because we wanted to enchant one so that it would turn you into a toucan when you put it on," George stifled a chuckle at Hermione's disapproving glare. "I mean, I'm proud of you now….but then…well, we were gits."

"It's alright," Hermione grinned despite the reminder of how she used to be teased over her zealousness for the cause. "I'll wear it for the speech," She added, discretely attaching the pin to the waist of her skirt where it would be discretely covered by her dress robes.

"It can just be a little reminder that I'm going to be watching and cheering you on," George said, squeezing her shoulder.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione and George's moment was disturbed when a young wizard in official, black ministry robes poked his head through a crack in the rosewood door and beckoned to Hermione.

"Ok, well I'm going to head in there, George," Hermione gulped. "Do you know where the viewer's gallery is?" She stared at George, focusing on his brilliant blue eyes, finding solace in the familiarity of them.

"Of course…go get'em darling," George's carefree demeanor was reassuring and Hermione held her head a little higher as she followed the young page into the central sanctuary of the Ministry. If Hermione had thought that the outer portions of the Ministry building were intimidating, she definitely found the inner chamber to be daunting. The floor was sloped and the side from which Hermione had entered was much higher than the part from where she'd be delivering her speech. Consequently, when she walked to the podium at the lowest point of the room, all eyes were on her. Hermione breath grew a bit quicker at the sight of the wall of faces occupying the seats. Everyone was clad in finely-tailored, official Ministry robes and Hermione was glad that she had thought the tie her best dark dress robes over her shoulders. Hermione surveyed the grand room as she carefully made her way down towards the central podium, stepping delicately over the fine burgundy carpet so as not to trip over her sensible beige pumps. Every single detail seemed to exist in order to demonstrate the exquisiteness of the building. The rich oak-stained wooden seats were all intricately carved in rose-shaped patterns. Occasional golden details highlighted the delicate pattern. Stone-faced watercolour portraits of past Ministers of Magic adorned the circular walls of the inner chamber. An imposing bronze chandelier hung in the very centre of the remarkably high, vaulted ceiling. The light radiating from the chandelier combined with the orange-red flames of the lanterns that hung around the edges were barely enough to light the large auditorium and, as a result, eerie shadows were cast throughout the room.

"Ah lovely," Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt announced to those in attendance when Hermione finally joined him at the podium. "Miss Granger has requested the opportunity to speak before us today on behalf of House Elves regarding the proposed Bill C-187." Turning to Hermione, Minster Shacklebolt gestured to the podium. "The floor is yours Miss Granger."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered in reply. She shuffled behind the podium and placed her prepared speech on the wooden surface. She looked up and tried to not be intimidated by the sheer number of wizards and witches before her.

"You may begin," Kingsley nodded.

"Er, right…Divisions," Hermione started quietly, her voice hoarse from some unknown impediment in the back of her throat.

"Speak up Miss Granger," Minister Shacklebolt commanded in his familiar, deep, rich tone. He smiled at Hermione and she knew that, even though he spoke curtly, he intended it to be kind.

"Right," Hermione nodded and cleared her throat. "Divisions," She reiterated louder than she had before. Even though the auditorium was chilly, she could feel a trickle of sweat on the back of her neck. Her hands shook in short, quick vibrations. Speaking in class had never made her uncomfortable, but this was her first time speaking before a large assembly of people and the experience was unquestionably intimidating. Gripping the podium with a steadfast grasp, Hermione looked over the sea of people. Most of the eyes seemed imposing, even the ones belonging to people who simply looked bored.

Hermione glanced up to the viewer's gallery. George was sitting in the front row: an encouraging smile on his face and support radiating from his vivid blue eyes. He gave her a swift thumbs-up and nodded for her to continue. She did: "Divisions in the wizard community almost led to its downfall. This was not long ago. I'm sure we can all recall that time." Hermione stated to the assembled, shuddering at the thought of what would have happened had Voldemort been victorious. "During this period, there was a segment of the population that was intent on drawing divisions between those they deemed worthy and those they deemed inferior. Certain notions almost pulled the community apart….Purebred…Muggleborn…blood traitor…" She gulped. "And Mudblood." She finished authoritatively. Sliding the sleeve of her blouse up to her elbow, Hermione held her right forearm out in front of her; the forearm that was forever tattooed with the vulgar slur. In the dim lights of the auditorium, she realized, only the first few rows would have possibly been able to make out the white lettering of her scar. Thus, her reveal didn't have the same effect that she had imagined while practicing her speech in front of her bathroom mirror.

"Er…" Hermione continued, working from memory rather than reading of her parchment. "Years ago, there was someone who saw me as a second-class citizen…something contemptible…" She stated defiantly, knowing that, in fact, Bellatix Lestrange saw her as much worse. "An abomination. There were those who thought that I was someone who did not deserve the same treatment as others. I will forever bear a scar because of that."

"Introducing legislation that establishes House Elves as second class citizens opens us to the possibility of drawing other divisions within the wizard community," Hermione annunciated as clearly as she could. "Wizards and witches fought and died so that wouldn't be the case." Images of Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Dumbledore, and others who had been lost flashed in her mind. "Those were our family, our friends, and our colleagues. We all know people who died for this cause…who sacrificed themselves to prevent evil from taking over the wizard community. These people died in order to keep our community whole."

"House Elves might not be quick to stand up for themselves," Hermione continued, the volume of her voice ascending as her confidence rose. "So we have to stand up for them." She thought of Dobby and the sacrifice the House Elf had made; one that likely guaranteed her survival.

"When you deliberate, think of the type of society in which we wish to live. Do we want to further a society that allows for class divisions? Or do we want one that treats everyone as equally deserving? This isn't just a law that affects House Elves…it affects all of us." Hermione took a deep breath, knowing that she needed her full lung capacity to drive home her final point: "If we start trying to distinguish between those who are deserving of respect and those who are not, who's to say where it will end? It's important that we don't even allow ourselves to start down that path. Please don't vote in favour of this perpetuation of a division in our community."Please don't allow this Act to become law."

Hermione let out her breath and looked out over the auditorium of blank faces. She had no idea what sort of impression her speech had made on those gathered or what difference it might have in how the Ministers would vote on the Act, but she was glad that it was over.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Kinsley said loudly to the entire assembly. He rose from his high backed, brown leather chair and approached Hermione at the podium. "We're going to have our debate now and then a quick recess and then a vote." He told her quietly, his back turned to the rows of Ministers. "You may watch from the gallery….thank you for your participation."

Hermione nodded. Her throat felt too constricted to formulate any actual words.

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you get the chance – It always brings me a smile!_


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty One **

_Author's Note: So, so sorry about the lengthy delay. It's been one of those weeks…Thanks so much for reading! Not mine! _

Hermione deliberately made her way back up the ramped aisle to towards the exit of the central chambers of the Ministry of Magic. She was aware of the many, many sets of eyes that bore into her back, but did her best to ignore them. Relief was her prevailing emotion. Whether or not her speech was successful, she was simply happy, in that moment, that the important task had been completed.

With all her strength, Hermione wrested the heavy, rosewood door open, and breathed easily when she entered the friendly confines of the surrounding lobby area.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned and saw she had a trio of well-wishers waiting for her. George, Holly, and Klara were seated together on the rigid maple bench that rested, pressed against the wall, adjacent to the door through which she had just emerged.

"Mione! You were brilliant," George exclaimed, jumping up from the seat to scope Hermione into an energetic hug.

"Really?" She asked her voice muffled from being snuggled tightly next to George's shoulder.

"I thought so," He replied.

"I don't think I had enough time to really make my point," Hermione muttered, as George gently placed her back on the ground. "It would have been nice if I really had the opportunity to speak for awhile, I could have gotten into much greater detail…there was so much more I wanted to say…so much more I could have said," She contemplated, her voice trailing away, as she untied her dress robes, removed them from her shoulders, and looped the heavy garment over her arm.

"No, Mione…I thought it was great…short and sweet," Klara volunteered, also rising to offer Hermione a supportive hug. "And you sounded very authoritative,"

"Thanks guys," Hermione's throat felt tight as she also accepted a hug from Holly. "What do we do now? I don't know if I should go back to work or go watch the rest of the debate and the vote."

"Do you want to watch them vote?" Klara asked gently.

"Not particularly," Hermione responded with an uneasy chuckle. "I think I'd rather just find out the results after the fact." The thought of listening to the Ministers tearing apart her words and accessing the value of them made her feel a little queasy.

"What if we went somewhere for lunch?" Klara suggested. "Or we could even get takeout and eat it in my office. That way it won't look like we're shirking on our work," She said, gesturing between herself, Hermione, and Holly. "And I can arrange to have the results of the vote delivered to my office as soon as they're known."

"That would be brilliant," Hermione breathed, grateful for her friend's idea. There was no way that she would be capable of focusing on editing her current piece of legislation: her adrenaline from delivering her speech was still too high.

"I'm in," Holly grinned. "Anything to avoid doing work for the afternoon…"

"And I have the afternoon off," George added. "If I can crash your girl's party that is,"

"Of course," Klara smiled.

-o-O-o-

It didn't take long for the group of four friends to comfortably converge in Klara's office, snacking on whatever offerings had looked the most appealing from the Ministry's cafeteria. Klara's office was at least twice the size of Hermione's and boasted a couple of plush couches and a large coffee table that made it an ideal place for enjoying their late lunch. Hermione nervously nibbled on her chicken pot pie as she listened to her friends chat amicably about day-to-day matters in an attempt to make her feel as if it was simply another afternoon. She wasn't sure when they'd hear word about the results of the vote and, consequently, rarely took her eyes off the door as she eagerly anticipated when the golden scroll would float into Klara's office with news of the Ministers' decision.

"You doing alright, Mione?" Klara questioned gently. "You look rather pale."

"Er…just a bit on edge," Hermione forced a chuckle as she reluctantly peeled her stare from the doorway.

"Do you have any idea when the results will be available?" Klara asked, carefully placing down her roast beef sandwich.

"Nope," Hermione shook her head. "Kingsley didn't give any indication…I suppose it could be whenever. I-" She stopped short as the sight of a small scroll supported by rapidly vibrating golden wings entering Klara's office distracted her. "I wonder…" Hermione speculated, not completing her thought. The scroll hovered over to Klara who nimbly caught it mid-air and violently unwrapped it.

"Rubbish…sorry, Mione…just a memo about something entirely unrelated." Klara volunteered tenderly, stowing the unhelpful letter in her oversized, brown leather satchel. "I'm sure it will be here soon though."

Hermione hadn't been aware that she had been holding her breath, but she quickly exhaled and nodded feebly. Reluctantly, she returned to her chicken pot pie. Holly and George immediately took the conversation to Quidditch and Hermione attempted to contribute to the discussion, despite the fact that her mind was elsewhere.

"When do the playoff start?" Holly questioned George. Hermione was certain that Holly was just asking to be polite; surely she already knew the answer to the inquiry. There was no possibly way, Hermione thought, that Holly didn't have all the important dates connected to Puddlemore United already jotted down in her day planner as well as committed to memory.

"A couple weeks from now," George offered.

"How's your team doing?" Klara asked, feigning an interest in the sport that Hermione knew she didn't particularly care for.

"We're doing alright…tied for the top with Montrose Magpies," George grinned modestly.

"If it comes down to head to head, you guys will take league for sure," Holly laughed confidently. "I know for a fact that they can't take you…their Chasers haven't been able to master your defense all year…there's no reason to believe that they'll suddenly have be capable against you guys in the playoffs."

"Well, we're hoping it comes down to the two of us," George replied with just as much self-assuredness as Holly. "You have to beat the best in order to say you're the best," He continued, speaking in the clichés that Hermione noticed that he often used when discussing his Quidditch team.

"You'll be coming to all the playoff games right, Mione?" Holly turned to Hermione, addressing her with a broad smile. "If you think the regular season games are crazy, you ought to see the playoffs. I'll be a wreck for sure."

"Er yes…I'll be going," Hermione stammered, caught off guard by Holly's question. "Although now I'm nervous to see what sort of state you'll be in...You should see Hol at these games," Hermione continued turning to Klara. "She's a bundle of nerves even during blow outs…I hate to see what the playoffs will do to her."

"I only hope you have some sort of medical training, Mione," Holly laughed. "Sweet Merlin…it might be necess-" Hermione's eyes went to Klara's door along with the rest of the office's occupants. Once again, a small scroll had entered the room. It too had the golden wings of an inter-Ministry communication. As Klara caught it and unrolled it, Hermione did her best to keep her nerves steady; for all she knew, it could merely be another false alarm.

"Ahhh! You did it Mione!" Klara exclaimed excitedly, showing an uncharacteristic amount of exuberance for her generally even keel personality. "The legislation was voted down!"

"Really!" Hermione echoed her coworker's excitement. "Are you serious?"

"Yup…I most definitely am. It was voted down. By a narrow margin, mind you…but it was voted down."

"That's brilliant Mione," Holly shrieked with a wide smile.

"You're amazing," George added, pulling Hermione into a side hug as they sat next to each other on Klara's couch.

"Er…there's no guarantee that I actually had anything to do with the result," Hermione contended. For all she knew, the Ministers' minds might have been made up regarding their votes well before her own contribution.

"Yes you did,"

"I'm positive that you were the difference maker,"

"Obviously this is all you,"

Despite her own misgivings, Hermione instinctively broke into a joyous grin and a soft flush arose on her cheeks at the sounds of her friends' praise. "Thanks you guys," She mumbled, continuing to lean into George's torso. "Although, mind you, this is hardly a noteworthy victory….There's still a long ways to go in order to gain proper equality for House Elves…I still have a lot to do…I have–" With that thought she stopped short. Ever since graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione hadn't exactly been sure what direction she wanted to take her career and what sort of things she wanted to pursue in her work life. In that moment, however, her future seemed a lot clearer and her plans felt much more solidified. She knew where her heart lay and what her passions dictated. She knew that she'd continue working towards achieving equality for the marginalized within the magical community; not just for House Elves, but for all who were historically treated as lesser, even including Muggle born wizards and witches like herself.

"A victory is a victory," Klara offered, seemingly unaware that Hermione had momentarily mentally checked out.

"Agreed," George grinned, snuggling Hermione a bit closer towards his torso.

"I think this calls for a celebration," Holly laughed. "I have a bottle of champagne in my office…would you like me to go get it?"

"Why do you have champagne in your office?" Klara asked pointedly. Her tone was good-natured, but Hermione knew, that as their technical supervisor, she had to inquire about any seeming violations of protocol."

"Er…you know…just in case the need for celebration ever arises…" Holly responded with a feigned embarrassment. "Like right now," She grinned impishly, absentmindedly straightening her vibrant pink top.

"Well…I don't know if I can really endorse that," Klara responded, brushing her long, black hair over her shoulder. "But perhaps we should go out tonight…Keith and Oliver could join us that way," She directed her comment towards Holly, mentioning both their respective boyfriends.

"I'd like that," Hermione smiled. Her breathing was much more relaxed since getting the positive news of the results of the Ministers' vote. She knew that it was not much more than a symbolic victory; nothing would actually change, as a result, regarding the treatment of House Elves. However, no matter how small, it was also a step in the right direction and she hoped that it would be the start of the momentum that would eventually lead to full equality and respect for House Elves and other non-person magical beings.

"Brilliant," Holly laughed. "Leaky Cauldron tonight?"

"Perfect," George grinned.

"I'm in," Hermione added: grateful for her friends' support, desire to be there for her when she needed encouragement, and willingness to take her out for celebrations when she received good news.

-o-O-o-

The Leaky Cauldron was fairly empty when Hermione and George entered the tavern later that evening. Taking advantage of the celebratory occasion, Hermione had changed out of her smart outfit she had worn for her address and had put on a playful party dress. The dress was a deep, eggplant purple. It had small capped sleeves, a low crew-cut neck line, and fit snugly in the waist. The skirt flared out over her hips, creating a large bell-shape over her thighs before reaching its hem at her knees. A narrow, black ribbon snaked around Hermione upper waist, encircling her middle three times before tying at a bow at the back. Her hear was worn down; Hermione had enchanted it to fall smoothly over her shoulders. Her only accessories were her favourite earrings; the diamond studs George had given her so long ago at Ginny and Harry's engagement party. With the dress and her sparkly black pumps, Hermione knew that she was significantly overdressed for the casual atmosphere of the Leaky Caldron, but she didn't mind; the outfit seemed appropriate for her mood. Also, George had dressed similarly fashionably in black slacks, a grey-blue button down shirt, and a darker blue sweater vest. He looked, Hermione thought, as handsome as ever and she was certain that the few other young women in the Leaky Cauldron were eyeing him approvingly as they walked through the tavern.

"Look, there's Klara and Holly," Hermione exclaimed, pointing at the table her friends and their boyfriends had claimed.

"Brilliant, Ollie's her too," George added with a smile, placing his hand on Hermione's lower back to guide her towards the aforementioned table.

"You look adorable," Holly declared as Hermione and George joined them.

"Thanks," Hermione grinned, sliding into one of the wooded chairs.

"Hey mate," George laughed, greeting Oliver Wood with an energetic hand slap. Hermione smiled at their enthusiastic exchange; she knew they'd be in for a lot of Quidditch talk over the evening, as George and Oliver had already started discussing Puddlemore United's game against the Chudley Cannons on the upcoming weekend. Their conversation, however, was interrupted when the waiter approached the table, seeing about drink requests.

"Er, I don't know…" Hermione murmured when the waiter inquired about what she wanted to drink. "There is work tomorrow," She added in response to Holly's incredulous glance.

"Oh Mione…Surely you can have one drink," Holly suggested. "We can take it easy tomorrow…You deserve a fun night,"

"Fine," Hermione chuckled and ordered a glass of white wine. "I hope I'm not regretting this at work tomorrow," She added, looking pointedly towards the smiling Holly.

"You won't be…We'll ensure that you're behaved." Holly laughed and shook her short blonde hair out of her eyes. Both girls knew that wasn't the nature of their friendship; if anything, Hermione would be mindful of Holly's behaviour, rather than the alternative.

Even with her concerns, Hermione was grateful when their waiter returned with the beverages. The white wine was both delicious and felt well-deserved.

"To Hermione?" George proposed, lifting his pint of Butterbeer, suggesting that the table complete a toast to Hermione.

"To Hermione," The others echoed as they clicked their glasses together. Hermione fought a slight blush as her friends ambushed her with praises and congratulations.

"Oh Mione, you know you deserve it," George chided, evidently noticing her flushed cheeks. "We're all very proud of you," He added, reaching over to nudge her shoulder.

"Alright," Hermione shrugged as she contently sipped her wine, eager to enjoy the company of her friends for the evening.

-o-O-o-

"Ugh, I should have known that I can't behave myself when I'm out with you two," Hermione giggled as she left the Leaky Cauldron with her friends. Her three generous glasses of wine throughout the evening were clouding her mind and making her less than secure on her black pumps. As she exited the front door, she held on tightly to George's arm.

"Easy there, Mione," George laughed, guiding her out into the temperate evening air.

"Meh, you deserved a fun night, Mione," Holly reminded her with a large grin. Her friend was right; Hermione had fun with her small group at the Leaky Cauldron. They had spent the evening in animated conversation, exchanging jokes, and discussing many topics from work, Quidditch, local gossip, and anticipated plans for the upcoming summer. Hermione had worn a wide smile throughout the evening and felt light headed at the end of it from the combination of continual laughter, the cozy tavern, and plenty of wine.

"Well, we should get going," Klara commented, motioning towards Keith. Hermione and Holly hugged their coworker goodbye and George and Oliver shook hands with Keith. Even though George had very little in common with Klara's boyfriend, he had been pleasant and friendly towards the much quieter and more reserved man all night, including in him all of his and Oliver's conversations, something Hermione found very admirable. After Klara and Keith left, Holly and Oliver were quick to follow.

"Ok, Hermione…shall we get going too?" George asked, offering Hermione his arm.

"Lead the way," She smiled, taking his hand in hers, looking forward to their walk back to his flat in the pleasant evening air. She knew she'd be unnecessarily tired at work the following day, but in the moment that didn't bother her; she was more interested in spending a few extra hours with George than in returning to her own empty flat and getting a good night's sleep.

_Author's note: Sorry again about the delay. Thanks for reading and please leave a comment! _


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty Two **

_Author's Note: Sorry, guys, I still haven't kicked this writer's block. I was hoping to have this chapter written a long time ago, but couldn't seem to get what I wanted down on paper. Thanks to all who are still reading. I can't believe that I've surpassed the 100,000 word mark [if you count my two one-offs connected to this story]. It is quite shocking to me that people are still reading this – Thanks so much to those who are! Not Mine – as always _

"Ginny…I can't believe it's your wedding already," Hermione sighed, holding up her hair in order for Angelina to zip up the back of her vibrant blue bridesmaid dress. "It seems too soon, doesn't it?" She smiled as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, having to admit that she liked the way she looked in the dress. The gown that had been ordered in her correct sized and tailored to fit her body was far more flattering than the shop's sample that she had secured to her body with the makeshift solution of large plastic clasps.

"I know," Ginny giggled, carefully wrestling her substantial wedding gown over her already styled hair. "I still don't think I have every detail under control…oh well, though," She added good-naturedly. "Er….can one of you girls give me a hand?" All of Ginny's bridesmaids – Hermione, Angelina, Lavender, and Luna – immediately sprang to action to assist the bride. Together they managed to get Ginny's dress on her without too much disarray to her neatly styled, vibrant red locks.

"Ginny…you look incredible," Hermione marveled, smoothing a portion of Ginny's hair over her friend's shoulder after she finished hinging the last of the many, many tiny buttons that extended up the back of Ginny's dress. She stepped back to get a better look at the sight of her friend in the impressive gown. The other bridesmaids all echoed the sentiment. They were right: Ginny looked divine. She hadn't tried on many dresses and evidently needn't have, as the one she had easily settled on fit her perfectly and matched her easygoing demeanor remarkably well. The strapless bodice was tight; made up of overlapping strips of fabric that served to highlight the tiny waist of Ginny's slim, but curvy figure. The gown's true interest was found in the skirt, which was so intricate it almost surpassed description. The full skirt boasted mismatched waves that swooped around Ginny's lower body in a haphazard yet startling appealing manner. One might have thought that the mass expanse skirt would have overpowered the petite girl, but the ivory, lightweight fabric instead created a dreamlike image that gave her an ethereal like quality. The dress was different enough from most wedding dresses to fit Ginny's own uniqueness, but was still traditional enough to appease the more old-fashioned side of her and to please her mother.

Ginny's long red hair was worn in large, bouncy, silky smooth ringlets over her shoulders. A small portion of the top of her hair was pulled back in a slight bouffant, creating a platform where Molly's antique veil sat. The veil was held in place by an ornate barrette that was shaped in a gothic pattern. The aged lace fell over Ginny's shoulders, reaching down just past her fingers. While the fabric of the veil didn't match the fabric of the dress, it didn't matter as the overall effect was marvelous.

"You girls look amazing too," Ginny gushed. Lavender had clearly made a wise decision in the dress boutique in selecting the simple blue number, as it looked suited to each of the bridesmaids. Somehow the colour managed to flatter all of them, from Luna's pale, almost translucent, skin to Angelina's much deeper, chocolate brown skin tone. Hermione was impressed that the basic, strapless style was uncomplicated enough to compliment each of the different figures of the girls: the angularly tiny Luna, tall, athletic Angelina, and the curvier Lavender.

"You ready for this?" Hermione asked with an easygoing yet supportive chuckle.

"You're asking me that now?" Ginny laughed heartily. "Right before the ceremony?" She asked, glancing at the large clock above the fireplace in the Weasley's living room, which indicated that the girls would be expected outside in any moment.

"Well…Harry would understand," Hermione lamely concluded.

"I don't know if everyone else would though," Lavender pointed out. "Witches' Weekly has already set up several photographers to get pictures of us…well…you…from every angle coming down the aisle."

"Well…I'm quite convinced that this is what I want," Ginny answered, flippantly yet with determination.

"That's very reassuring, Lav," Angelina nervously giggled at the same time, leaning over Luna in order to readjust her hair in front of the circular mirror that had been set up in the centre of the room. Angelina had teased her curls into an even larger mass than normal so that they surrounded her head in an impressive halo. Hermione – who had always been particularly self-conscious about her own relatively bushy hair – felt a ting of envy at the older girl's confidence to adopt such a statement hairstyle. Somehow the showy style managed to perfectly suit Angelina's outgoing personality.

"Not that that should intimidate anyone," Lavender added, applying yet another layer of pale pink lip gloss. "The pictures will look best if you're natural and relaxed," She mentioned authoritatively.

"You look really pretty Angelina," Luna stated in her airy voice as she absent-mindedly continued to brush her spun gold hair smooth.

"Thanks Luna," Angelina laughed, backing away from the mirror. "So when are they expecting us out there, Gin?"

"Er, I guess my dad will come get us when it's time," Ginny shrugged. She had claimed a spot on the smaller of the Weasley's couches. Her large skirt was almost entirely swallowing her up, taking up most of the couch. As if on cue, Mr. Weasley yelled through the door:

"Ginny! Girls! Everyone decent? May I come in?"

"Yup, we're good, Dad," Ginny shouted back, the excitement in her voice undeniable. Hermione glanced at the circular mirror and gave one last pat down of her straightened hair, ensuring that it fell uniformly over her shoulders and down her back. Angelina had done her makeup, giving her subtly painted eyes and lips that were appropriate for the afternoon ceremony. She slid on her beige pumps and picked up her small bouquet of purple, pink, and blue flowers that Ginny had chosen for all of her bridesmaids.

After getting into the proper order, the bridesmaids filed out of the Burrow and into the bright afternoon day. The warm humidity was a far cry from the cold spell that London had experienced over the winter months and the welcoming weather was ideal for an outdoor wedding. Hermione walked carefully across the thick grass of the Burrow's back yard, following behind Luna. She didn't have to look back to know that Ginny and Mr. Weasley were close behind. Fortunately for the couple of the hour, the day was clear and the sun was shining and there was no reason to set up the tents from Harry and Ginny's engagement party. Hermione drew in her breath at the sight of the Weasley's back yard; it had been decorated in a spectacular fashion. She knew that Mrs. Weasley and Ginny's brothers had been working hard on the preparations for some time, but was still taken aback when she saw the beauty of the yard.

The normally bare yard was covered by rows and rows upon rows of benches for Harry and Ginny's guests. Lavender had evidently been correct: it was clearly a very popular and well attended event. As Hermione sashayed down the aisle, she saw countless faces of former classmates, past professors, casual acquaintances, well-known wizards and witches in the magical community, and people who she was completely unable to place. All were clad in their finest wear. Many of the wizards were wearing fancy, traditional robes and a fair number of the witches, particularly the older ones, had on oversized, heavily adorned hats and complicated fascinators. The benches, themselves, were covered in overlapping ribbons and lace strips in Harry and Ginny's wedding colours: blue, purple, and pink. While the tents weren't utilized, a canopy had been created over the ceremony. A mass of blue, purple, pink, and white flowers of innumerable varieties were suspended above head, with occasional white lights punctuating the floral roof. Sprinklings of the same sorts of flowers peppered the grassy aisle created by a large gap in the centre of the benches. The use of the flowers gave the yard a dreamscape sense and as Hermione continued down the aisle, she felt as if she was walking through another type of world altogether.

A raised platform stood in the middle of the yard. Upon it sat a white, latticed archway that was also covered in the mixture of blue, purple, and pink flowers. Harry and his groomsmen were already waiting on the platform as Ginny's wedding party made their way down the aisle. Hermione instinctively broke into a large grin at the sight of Harry, standing proudly and smiling widely as he awaited his bride. Having opted against the traditional robes many wizard grooms wore, Harry cut a striking figure in his charcoal grey suit. His three piece suit fit him snugly and the vibrant blue tie – from the same colour of fabric as the bridesmaids' dresses – nicely accentuated his emerald green eyes, which shone brilliantly, even through his ever-present round glasses. Beside him, Ron stood with a large, delighted grin lighting up his face. Hermione quickly glanced passed the other groomsmen, Neville and Fred, to find George with her eyes. Even though he was wearing the same outfit as the other groomsmen, Hermione couldn't help but think that he looked much more handsome. He had evidently tried to tame is shaggy red hair, but it still managed to hang over his ears and across his forehead in a casually laidback way. His crooked smile was particularly marked with pride, and Hermione could tell quite plainly that he was overjoyed for his beloved little sister.

Hermione took her position aside Luna as Mr. Weasley planted a quick kiss on Ginny's forehead and assisted her onto the platform. Hermione's already significant smile grew a little wider as Harry and Ginny took a hold of each other's hands and faced each other in front of all of their friends, family, and acquaintances. Percy – the Ministry representative who the couple had asked to conduct their ceremony – cleared his throat and addressed the mass of guests.

"Good day. Thanks to all who are here today" – Percy announced with a particular formality annunciated in his tone – "We're here to celebrate the wedding of Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley," As he spoke his little sister's name, Hermione thought that perhaps she heard Percy's voice break in an uncharacteristic demonstration of emotion. However, he easily retained his professional tone when he switched to Latin: the language used in most marital ceremonies in the magical community.

"Amor hodie nos congregavit," Percy said loudly and authoritatively. As Percy lead Harry and Ginny through their vows, Hermione quickly reached for the tissue she had cleverly remembered to stow in her boutique, knowing that she'd need it.

"I, Harry James Potter sume tibi semper et semper in amore," Harry repeated after Percy, a large smile alighting his face as he carefully slid the wedding band on Ginny's finger.

"I, Ginevra Molly Weasley sume tibi semper et semper in amore," Ginny echoed as she did the same. Hermione brushed away tears from the corners of both eyes she knew no one in the crowd would notice her action; all eyes were on the couple. As per Percy's instruction, Harry and Ginny clasped right hands. Percy gently tapped their joined hands with the end of his wand. Slowly, a tiny gold thread grew out of the tip of his wand. It deliberately snaked around Harry and Ginny's hands. As it grew in length, the thread started to surround all of Harry and Ginny, creating a golden sheen around the couple.

"Ego nunc te, sponsus et sponsa, sponsus et sponsa," Percy shouted loudly and slowly to the edges of the Burrow's yard. "Sit vita vestra dilectio pervadant," He raised both his hands above his hand and then quickly lowered his wand. The golden thread surrounding Harry and Ginny instantaneously exploded, creating a large golden cloud that emanated out from the centre of the platform. The cloud turned into a dust and sprinkled to the ground and the large crowd of people burst into wild cheers and deafening applause. Hermione surprised herself by whooping loudly for her friends as she did her best to clap while continuing to hold onto her bouquet. Her face, she knew, were stained with tears and her smile was so wide it felt as if her cheeks might crack. She glanced at Harry and Ginny and immediately reached, yet again, for her well-used tissue. The sheer level of joy and pride on the faces of two of her best friends was almost more than she could handle. Her eyes left the couple and she surveyed the crowd. All were on their feet, cheering and clapping for the couple. Hermione saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Both looked incredibly proud and Mrs. Weasley had tears streaming down her face. Minerva McGonagall was next to the Weasleys. The normally sever Hogwarts Headmistress was smiling brightly and clapping enthusiastically along with everyone else. Hermione's line of vision continued through the crowd of celebratory attendees until she eventually landed on George, who was standing on the other side of the platform from her. George was cheering and whistling louder than anyone. His face was aglow with pride and delight for his little sister. Hermione sighed contently at the sight of George. Everything about him – from his undeniable happiness for his sibling, to his rumbled red hair, to his crooked smile – brought her joy.

_Author's note: Thanks again for reading and so, so sorry for the really slow update times. I think there will be two more chapters and then a couple of epilogues left. Please leave a comment if you'd like to make me feel very, very happy! – SJ _


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty- Three **

_Author's note: Thanks so much to all who've been reading this story! It's so very much appreciated. As always, not mine_

Once Harry and Ginny's wedding ceremony was complete, it didn't take long for the benches to be cleared aside and the dance floor to fill up with excited revelers. As he so often did, the twin's close friend, Lee Jordan, eagerly took over on the sound system and was overseeing a continual stream of crowd pleasing hits. To the surprise of no one, Ginny had claimed the very centre of the surface, enthusiastically pulling her bridesmaids along with her. Ginny's impressively large dress was light enough to be conducive to dancing and as the feisty red head twisted and whirled around the dance floor, the waves of her dress encircled her, giving extra emphasis to each of her already energetic movements.

Hermione laughed as she joined in with the dancing to the upbeat song that Lee had selected. Normally, occupying the very centre of the crowded dance floor would have made her uncomfortable, but the enjoyment of dancing alongside Ginny and the other bridesmaids outweighed any trepidation that Hermione had over being a focal point of the party. Hermione's mood was light and joyful; the type of disposition where she found everything to be hilarious. Her smile only grew larger as she watched Ginny's effortless, energetic moves, Angelina's confident strutting, Lavender's purposeful and skillful pirouettes, and Luna's airily noncommittal yet beautiful movements. Hermione, for her part, danced and twirled along with the music, caring more about having fun and expending her significant amounts of energy than creating a particularly proficient dance.

"Might I cut in?"

Hermione ceased her motions at the sound of a deep, rich voice in her left ear. She spun quickly, the skirt of her vibrant blue dress rising slightly with the force of her sudden movement. Turning, she found herself staring into George's brilliant blue eyes.

"Of course," Hermione grinned, accepting his hand in hers with an eager willingness. As George swept her into an easygoing waltz-like dance, Hermione caught Ginny's ecstatic grin in the corner of her range of vision. Ginny, she knew, was still processing her relationship with George, but was still just as overjoyed by the prospect of her friend and her brother being together as she had when Hermione had first disclosed their involvement. It was odd for her friend, Hermione was certain, that her best friend was dating another one of her brothers, but she knew that Ginny only wanted good things for her relationship with George. In fact, it was rare that a conversation with her friend would occur without the young red-head chiding her over when she and George would be announcing their own engagement. Hermione ruefully considered the fact that now that Ginny's own wedding had occurred, she'd be eagerly looking forward to the next marital celebration and that she would fervently hope that it would be Hermione and George's.

"_I'll have to convince her to pester Ron and Lavender instead of George and me," _Hermione considered good-naturedly as George pushed her into yet another playful twirl and she noticed Ginny's other brother dancing with his girlfriend. Her friend's ribbing didn't bother her, she just wasn't quite sure that she and George needed any extra pressure in their relationship.

"Hermione…where are you, love?" George teasingly remarked, pulling Hermione a bit closer towards with the leverage of his hands on her hips.

"Oh, sorry…just thinking…about how lovely that ceremony was…so lovely," Hermione stammered, awaking from her deep contemplation.

"I'm just giving you a hard time," George smiled, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on Hermione's forehead. "You seemed a little distant there,"

"Well…there's a lot to think about," Hermione offered with a grin. "Keep in mind that two of my best friends just got married. This is a rather remarkable day,"

"Yup, I suppose it is," George replied, coaxing Hermione into another spin, this time in the opposite direction. Hermione giggled as she twirled on her tip toes, liking the way her lively dress encircled her with her movement. "Not every day my little sister is married off," George added, completing Hermione's spin by dipping her low towards the ground. Hermione happily complied with his lead; George was such a talented dancer and she enjoyed being in his arms and responding to his graceful cues.

"Ginny Potter…" Hermione spoke speculatively as George pulled her up from the dip and secured her back on her feet. "Has a bit of an odd ring to it still….doesn't it."

"I guess we'll get used to it." George smiled. "Although it might take a while…getting used to my little sister being all married. I still remember when she was a tiny little thing. Just causing so much trouble," He added with a hearty and affectionate laugh.

"Causing trouble?" Hermione smiled. "That's awful rich coming from you," She said, casting George a flirty and pointed glance.

"Well…on a sliding scale. Compared to Percy…and Bill…and Ron, Ginny was a trouble maker."

"Oh really, and compared to you and Fred?" Hermione asked, wrapping her arms a bit tighter around George's neck.

"She wasn't much of a trouble maker compared to us…" George admitted sheepishly. "But she learned quickly…In fact, I taught her everything I knew,"

"I have no doubt,"

"I'm going to miss her you know," George said, sounding suddenly very nostalgic. "She's always been such a great little sister,"

"None of that will change, George," Hermione reminded him gently. "She's only gotten married. It's not as if she's moved to Canada or something. You'll still see her all the time, she's still your little sister,"

"I know," George sighed. "It just feels different…like she's growing up, heading off on her own…just like how Fred changed a bit after he got married, I'm worried that Ginny will change too," Even though George and Hermione continued partaking in the effortless, lively dance moves, it was apparent that George was deeply affected by the weight of his sister's marriage; his voice creaked with emotion even as he remained light on his feet.

"Ginny's always going to be Ginny," Hermione pointed out caringly. "Did you want to go sit down for a while though? Take a break from dancing?"

"Yah, that would be nice," George responded, a smile finally peeking out from the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get all sentimental on you there…it's just suddenly hit me I suppose…what it means for Ginny to be growing up like this…"

"No apologies necessary," Hermione grinned, taking George's hand in hers. "Your worries are quite natural I'm sure…" As she led George away from the centre of the dance surface and towards the benches that were now surrounding it, she didn't mention that many of his concerns mirrored her own. It was simply shocking to see two of her best friends – both of whom she'd known since childhood – embark on such an adult venture. Even though she had quickly comforted George about his worries that the marriage wouldn't change things, she realized that felt the same way; that she was frightened that her friendship with both Harry and Ginny would be henceforth altered as they participated in the allusive practices reserved solely for married couples.

In silence, George and Hermione easily found an empty bench, which they sat into contently. Hermione continued holding onto his hand and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying his warm presence beside her. It was a relief for her that they were finally able to act like a couple in public gatherings. Their nearness did attract some curious stares from onlookers who were unaware of their relationship, but to the people who really mattered – the Weasleys and their closest friends – they could cuddle on the bench and steal occasional kisses without raising any eyebrows.

"What are you two doing here? What happened to the dancing?" Ginny excitedly approached George and Hermione, a large smile continuously playing across her face. "I thought you loved this song, George."

"Well, I do," George replied good-naturedly as Ginny collapsed into the bench next to Hermione, her wide and complicated skirt taking up most of the available room. "But Hermione and I needed a rest."

"A rest?" Ginny exclaimed incredulously. "You? You're the last person on the dance floor usually…what has happened to you?" She added in a teasing tone.

"Oh, you know, Gin…aging…I'm not as spry as I once was," George laughed self-deprecatingly.

"That's not true. That's hardly a believable excuse," Ginny insisted with a grin.

"Well…perhaps Hermione and I wanted to sit together for awhile," George said, leaning down to kiss Hermione's forehead.

"Oh, really? Do you want me to leave you two alone," Ginny asked with a pointed glance at the couple. "Give you a bit of alone time?"

"Not in the least Gin," Hermione chuckled. "Of course you can stay with us…we'd appreciate it."

"Lovely," Ginny smiled. "Truth is, I'm pretty knackered. My feet hurt and this dress weighs a ton…I could use a rest as well."

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked with a content sigh as Ginny rested her head on her shoulder. "Is he on the dance floor still?" She questioned, certain, nevertheless, that Ginny would answer in the negative; Harry had never been particularly comfortable with dancing.

"Oh no, of course not," Ginny laughed fondly. "He's over there…being a polite groom and a gracious host," Ginny pointed to the opposite side of the back yard set up where Harry was talking with Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Slughorn. "He's much better at all this than I am,"

"He looks so happy," Hermione said speculatively, speaking to no one in particular. Harry was clearly engaged in the conversation, as he moved his hands animatedly. He wore a massive smile on his face and stood taller and prouder than Hermione have ever seen from him before. "I'm so pleased for both of you, Gin,"

"Me too," George contributed with an affectionate smile. "Just don't go and leave us," Although he spoke with confidence, Hermione could tell that he was still insecure about such an occurrence.

"Leave you two?" Ginny exclaimed, sitting up straightly to look at George. "Whatever do you mean? Why would we leave you two?"

"I don't know…to be a mature married lass?" George laughed.

"Mature?" Ginny scoffed. "Doubtful. There's no way I could leave you two…who else would plan your wedding?" She asked with an exaggerated wink.

"Oh Ginny," Hermione sighed.

"I'm just pointing out that I just planned this wedding…and it was quite lovely if I do say so myself…so I really do know what I'm doing. So if you need any help…or suggestions…or anything," Ginny responded with a playful flip of her still-in-ringlets red hair.

"I'm sure you will, Gin...I'll be sure to seek your expertise when the time has come," George replied cryptically.

"Excellent," Ginny grinned, leaning her head against Hermione's bare shoulder once again. Hermione couldn't help but smile contently as she and George and Ginny sat together peacefully, watching the eager revelers as the sun began to slink away in the distance.

-o-O-o-

"Thank you so much for coming," Ginny yawned, tightly wrapping her arms around Hermione's middle as the newly married couple said goodbyes to Hermione and George. Despite her earlier assertions that she was growing weary, Ginny had soon returned to the dance floor where she had resumed her energetic moves and excited spins. George had convinced Hermione to join the dancers and Hermione had happily obliged. By the time midnight had passed, however, Hermione was exhausted and knew she needed to call it a night. Most of Ginny and Harry's party guests had long since made their exits and only the wedding parties and some of their closest friends continued the celebration.

"How could I miss this," Hermione smiled sleepily. "After all, you did make me maid of honour,"

"And I fully expect that you'll do the same," Ginny kindly chided. "I'll be your made of honour right?"

"Oh Ginny," Hermione chuckled fondly. "I assure you that when I get married you'll be my maid of honour…just don't wait with bated breath."

"Whatever," Ginny grinned knowingly. "I'll look forward to it though…whenever it happens."

"I'm sure you will," Hermione gave her friend one last squeeze before letting her go. "That was a lovely evening."

"Thanks,"

"I'm really happy for you and Harry," Hermione spoke sincerely.

"And I'm really happy for you and George," Ginny replied. "That you're dating," She added hastily. "I'm really happy that you're dating. I'd hate it if you were dating someone who wasn't one of my brothers,"

"Good to know," Hermione laughed.

"Thanks for coming, Mione," Harry interjected, pulling Hermione into a hug as George secured Ginny in a tight embrace.

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything…Death eaters couldn't have kept me away," Hermione smiled fervently. "I'm so incredibly happy for you two," She knew she spoke in hyperbole, but even the greatest exaggeration would have difficulties capturing her true feelings of joy over the union.

"Thanks, Mione…I'm really happy for you too…you seem to be doing so well."

"Thanks Harry…I'm…I've been doing great lately…things are going really well."

"I can tell," Harry let go of Hermione and smiled at her. "You seem less stressed out lately…more yourself…if that makes sense."

"I think so,"

"Ginny can't stop talking about you and George. She just loves it. From the moment she suspected something was happening between you two, it became her favouite topic…other than the wedding of course…and Quidditch."

"Really?" Hermione laughed. "That sounds just like her,"

"Yup…That's Ginny for you," Harry stated proudly, smiling affectionately at his bride, who was still talking intently with her older brother. "She loves you both so much…it means so much to her to see you guys happy…and that you're happy together. She doesn't let it on, but I think she was worried about George for awhile…what with Fred being so busy with the twins…and him returning from Egypt with everything being so different…it means the world to her to see you too so happy,"

"That's brilliant," Hermione could only manage; tears were threatening at the corners of her eyes. She thought that she'd cried herself out during the ceremony, but apparently she hadn't, as she brushed away a stray tear before it could fall down her cheek or before Harry could notice. There was something about weddings – particularly those between loved ones – that simply managed to overwhelm the emotions. "I'm really glad…and relieved….that Ginny's alright with us…I would hate-hate to think what would happen if she was upset…I don't know…"

"Ginny would never be upset about something that makes you happy," Harry answered emphatically.

"That's true," Hermione speculated, shocked that she hadn't arrived at that same simple, obvious understanding on her own. It made so much sense when Harry stated it so succinctly.

"Are you ready to go, Mione?" George broke Hermione's contemplation when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I am," Hermione murmured. "Thanks again you two, and congratulations of course." As Harry and Ginny responded in unison with cheerful goodbyes, George secured his grasp around Hermione's waist. Hermione waved farewell to her newly married friends before she and George disappeared in an instance, pulled away from the Burrow's yard by an unseen force.

_Author's Note: Thanks again so much for reading. And once again, sorry about the slow updates. Bit of a filler chapter, I know…I just like winding down the story slowly rather than just ending it. I suppose I'm not quite prepared for it to be over! I always, always love hearing from my readers and would greatly appreciate a quick comment, review, or note of encouragement. Thanks! – SJ _


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty Four **

_Author's Note: Sorry again about the delay; bunch going on right now and really tough to find time to sit down and write. Thanks so much for reading and to everyone who's been following and commenting. It's so lovely to know that people have been reading and enjoying my story! This was going the last "Chapter," but I've actually split the last chapter into two because I felt so bad about not updating. So this is part 1 of the last chapter. Part 2 will hopefully be posted shortly and then there will be a couple of "epilogues"! So if you have any requests or anything, message me. I love hearing from people about the story and do my best to incorporate suggestions [and often there's things I'll miss that my readers will point out to me – very important]. Once again, not mine and sorry again for the significant delay. _

"Are you alright? Am I going to have to find a team healer to watch with us?" Hermione laughed as she entered the room where the wives and girlfriends of the Puddlemore United Quidditch team watched the matches. Holly was already in the room, looking more nervous and more stressed out than Hermione was accustomed to seeing her generally easy-going coworker and friend.

"Ugh, that might be necessary…very necessary indeed," Holly's jaw slackened momentarily as she spoke, but her hands remained clasped directly over her heart. Holly had on one of Oliver's practice jerseys. The top was too large for her and so she had cinched it at the waist with a haphazard knot. Her entire face was caked in red paint – the colour worn by Puddlemore United – and her short blond hair boasted streaks of the same colour. She had drawn Oliver Wood's number "1" on the skin of her legs that was exposed by her short, black skirt and her earrings were emblazed with the logo. Hermione fought the temptation to poke fun at her friend over her appearance. After all, she too was clad in a Puddlemore United tee shirt and had enchanted a paintbrush to sketch the team's logo on one side of her face and George's number "6" on the other. While she knew she and her friend created quite the pair, they hardly stood out as odd in the least; a quick glance out of the large window that faced the stadium told Hermione that almost all of those in attendance were equally decked out in support of their side: either Puddlemore United or their opponents, the Montrose Magpies. The nervousness and the anticipation within the stadium were palpable. Even though thousands of supporters crowded into the building, the silence was deafening; everyone seemed on edge. Hermione could tell it was an important game because even the other wives and girlfriends in the room with her and Holly – who normally acted as if they couldn't care less about the outcome of the match – seemed uneasy.

"I've never seen this place like this before," Hermione muttered as she and Holly stood at the window and stared out over the empty pitch.

"Nothing compares to the championship game," Holly replied definitively. Based on the atmosphere, Hermione had no reason to doubt her friend. Everyone in the crowded stadium certainly seemed steeped in anticipation over watching their team play for the right to call themselves first in the league. "Oh my, sweet Merlin…We're starting," Holly shrieked as the teams took the pitch to begin their warm-ups. "Here we go, Mione," She added, grapping hold of Hermione's shoulders and shaking her forcefully as the stadium of supporters erupted into cheers of anticipation at the sight of their teams entering the pitch.

-o-O-o-

"I have no idea it would be like this," Hermione rasped with what little was left of her voice. "I can barely take this," She said, noticing that her hands trembled as she spoke.

"I told you it would be intense," Holly responded without ungluing her glittering grey-blue eyes from the pitch. Even though the teams were in the midst of a much-needed timeout, Hermione's heart rate didn't relax. The match had already lasted four and a half hours and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Puddlemore United and the Montrose Magpies continued to trade goals and the tight lead oscillated between the two sides. Both Reid Johnson and the Magpies' Seeker continued to drift around the pitch, neither seeming to have a beat on the allusive Golden Snitch. Hermione had to wonder if the league was using a faster moving, sneakier Snitch for the championship game because both Seekers seemed completely befuddled as to its whereabouts. Based on the way the two teams were playing, it was obvious that the eventual winner would be the one whose Seeker claimed the Snitch; there was simply no way that either team would score a sufficient amount of goals to allow for otherwise.

"I just didn't realize it would be like this," Hermione reiterated, taking a deep and purposeful breath.

"I told you!" Holly stated. "Oh merlin, they're back," She yelled, pointing at the pitch where the miniature looking players were reemerging from their respective sidelines to resume the game. "Oh Puddlemore, oh Puddlemore, you got this," Holly murmured, mostly to herself.

"Ok boys…I know you can do this," Hermione contributed, also speaking more to herself than her companion. Hermione braced her knees and stared intently at the pitch, fervently willing George's side to succeed.

Fortunately for the two girls, their nerves didn't have to take much more of a beating as the game took a sudden and pleasant turn once the players returned to the pitch. Shortly after the referee whistled play back into action, Reid darted quickly to his left before initiating a free fall towards the grass. As he shot downwards with his hand stretched out in front of him, the Puddlemore supporters broke out into joyous cheers and yells, evidently aware of the direction the game was taking. Hermione and Holly made no effort to contain their excitement, as both lost all sense of decorum: jumping in place, clapping their hands, and cheering feverously for Reid to succeed in his quest for the Snitch. Hermione's voice was raw as she yelled, but that didn't matter, because, in that moment, she really only cared about the outcome of the match. It was a far cry, she knew, from her former self, who couldn't care less about Quidditch, but in the midst of the fever of the game she didn't bother to analyze her recent change of heart.

Just before hitting the ground, Reid pulled up on his broom and shot into the air, his hand held triumphantly above his head. It was a remarkably uncomplicated play and just like that the match was over; Puddlemore United had won. From their lofty vantage point, Hermione couldn't see the tiny, golden Snitch contained in his first as the Puddlemore Seeker took a well-deserved victory lap, but knew that it had to be there. Half the stadium exploded into rapture as the Puddlemore United supporters celebrated their victory. Hermione only had an iota of a moment to appreciate what had happened before Holly tackled her out of excitement. Holly's loud shrieks filled Hermione's ears, but Hermione wasn't perturbed by the volume; she was far too joyful to mind. Hermione was vaguely aware that her feet had left the ground as Holly lifted her into a victorious hug. When Holly finally placed her back on her feet, Hermione was aware that the stadium was quickly emptying: the Magpie supporters were eager to leave the grounds and the Puddlemore fans were apparating from their spots in the bleachers onto the pitch in order to surround the team in their frenzied celebration. The situation was pandemonium, as Puddlemore fans were apparating into too small of spots and bumping into each other and falling over. Hermione sensed that no one was complaining though, as all were lost in the celebration. The pitch soon crowded up with gleeful revelers.

"Let's get down there," Holly exclaimed. She grabbed onto Hermione's hand and Hermione felt the surge of apparating before she and Holly suddenly rematerialized on the soft grass of the Quidditch pitch. People were everywhere. Noise surrounded Hermione as the sounds of cheers and the songs of the supporters filled her ears.

"What is happening?" She asked joyously, maintaining a firm grasp of Holly's hand.

"Isn't this madness?" Holly yelled back in an excited response.

"Yup," Hermione had to shout even though Holly was standing right next to her as she hesitantly returned the hug of a complete stranger.

"Let's go find the boys," Holly exclaimed as she high fived frenzied fans with her free hand.

"If that's possible," Hermione replied even though she was certain her friend couldn't hear her. Hand in hand, Hermione and Holly pushed through the sea of red-clad celebratory people towards the centre of the pitch where they were sure they would find the team. Fortunately, everyone was in high spirits and no one protested to their maneuvers. Surprisingly it didn't take long to reach mid-field. Staring through the crowd, Hermione was certain that she could see the top of George's head; the red of his hair was unmistakable.

"Come on," Hermione shouted, suddenly aware that she was leading Holly. A few metres more and they had found the team.

"Hermione!" George shouted gleefully. Extracting himself from an embrace from several teammates, he scooped Hermione into an energetic bear hug. He was covered in sweat, but that didn't deter Hermione and she happily entwined her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. His smile was as wide as Hermione had ever seen in at she felt even more joy than she had previously now that she was able to share in the excitement with George.

"George! I'm so happy for you…what a game," Hermione yelled, hoping that George could hear her over the wall of noise. Ignoring that it was drenched in sweat, Hermione gently ran her hand through his hair as he held her off the ground in a secure embrace.

"Let's get out of here," George shouted to Hermione's surprise. Although she thought he would have wanted to celebrate with his team, she nodded in response to his suggestion. For the second time since the game ended Hermione was pulled away by the force of apparating. She had no idea where George was taking her, but held on tightly to his torso, excited to find out what he had in store.

_Author's Note: So sorry again for how poorly I've been doing on my updates. Hopefully I'll get part 2 of this chapter written and posted in a decent amount of time. _


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